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Gcpigtal^?—- tLajL— 

COFXRIGHT DEPpSit 














HENRY 

A. 



^ » ^ 7 '?. 

AND HIS TRAVELS 














“now we’ll set out to sea,” he laughed, seizing the oars, 

[pair«“ 108] 






'henry 

AND HIS TRAVELS 


BY 

A. C. WESTERGAARD 

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH BY 
DANIEL KILHAM DODGE / 




D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK :: 1923 :: LONDON 






7Zn 

.Usi^'T 

He 


COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


PaiMT*D 19 THE UKITED STATES OF AMERICA 


OCT 11 W23 I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. A Little Merchant ... i 

II. Memories.20 

III. At the Hofburg .... 36 

IV. A Danish Home .... 41 

V. The Children’s Train . . 48 

VI. An Enemy.59 

VII. The Boy from Vienna . . 68 

VIII. The Shore Gang .... 82 

IX. Fishing.97 

X. A Friendship Is Formed . . 113 

XI. Good News.130 

XII. Hard Times.142 

XIII. Mads Dyre’s Party . . . 149 

XIV. The Shipwreck . . . . 157 

XV. Homeward Bound . . . . 171 

XVI. Home.187 

XVII. Stephen’s Death .... 198 

XVIII. Beggars.205 


V 








VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XIX. The Truant 
XX. The Arrest 
XXL Before the Judge 
XXII. The Verdict 
XXIII. The Reform School . 
XXIV. News from Denmark 
XXV. Freedom . . . . 

XXVI. Back to Denmark 


PAGE 

216 

224 

237 

252 

259 

274 

283 

288 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

A. C. WESTERGAARD 






HENRY 

AND HIS TRAVELS 


I 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 


H enry I” 

“Yes, mother.” 

“Do you remember what you prom¬ 
ised me yesterday? I am so tired; I cannot do it 

myself.” 

‘What is it, mother?” Henry asked, turning 
in bed and looking at his mother with sleepy eyes. 

“You promised to go out to Kahlenberg to the 
peasant Joshua. I would go myself, for he will 
cheat you; but I cannot climb up the hill. I am 
so tired.” 

“You needn’t go. I shall go and he will not 
cheat me.” 

Henry was now wide awake and in a moment 
was up and dressed. 

“What do you want to sell?” he asked, as his 

I 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


mother gave him breakfast, a piece of dry black 
bread and a cup of weak tea. 

“It is a dress.” 

“But you have only one dress, mother. You 
can’t sell that.” 

“It is my wedding dress. It is the last thing 
we have left to sell. I have kept it so long, but 
now I must give it up.” 

“How much flour do you think I can get for 
it?” 

“Possibly ten pounds. Do you think you can 
carry as much as that? It is a long walk.” 

“No trouble about that. I can carry more. 
What will you say when I come back with ten 
pounds of flour and ten pounds of potatoes?” 

“You will not get as much as that, Henry. 
Joshua the peasant looks after himself before 
he thinks of others.” 

“I’ll make him shell out, mother. I am a 
man.” 

Henry had finished his breakfast and was ready 
for the expedition. 

“Here is the dress,” said his mother, and gave 
him a little bag. “Put the flour in the bag. But 
you must hurry. I shall not feel easy until you 
are home again. So many wicked people have 


2 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 


come to Vienna since the War. Don’t run and 
don’t dawdle. Go, little Henry. You know the 
way and may God be with you.” 

It was a long way from Hohenbergstrasse to 
Kahlenberg and he had to walk. A street-car 
ticket cost seven crowns and his mother could 
not afford that. But he knew the way. For two 
years Joshua the peasant had provided them with 
flour, potatoes, and turnips in exchange for bed¬ 
clothes, wearing apparel, silver and anything else 
that they could collect, and Henry had usually 
accompanied his mother. Now he was to go 
alone and bargain with Joshua. He was not a 
little proud of the charge. 

Henry had once known better days and he had 
not forgotten them. They had had a large apart¬ 
ment and pretty furniture and always plenty to 
eat. They had had a maid and his mother took 
him out for a walk almost every day. But then 
the War came and his father had to serve for he 
was a major. Henry remembered it very clearly; 
he would never forget how his mother put her 
arms about his father’s neck and wept. He 
cried, too, because his mother cried but his father 
said that he would soon come back. 

But he did not return; he never returned. A 
few days after his father had left his mother 

3 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


wept more bitterly than when she had said fare¬ 
well and she took Henry on her lap and told him 
that his father would not return—that he was 
dead—shot—and that they had buried him up in 
the eternal snow. And his mother wept many 
days and he wept with her for he had loved his 
father who was always so kind to him. 

A short time after they moved to another 
apartment with only two rooms and his mother 
sold most of their furniture. He had not under¬ 
stood why they should move and why the pretty 
things should be sold but when he asked the 
reason his mother kissed him and said that they 
were poor. He understood it better now that 
he was twelve years old and had seen much since 
then. 

They had moved once more and had sold many 
more things. They lived now in a small room 
under the roof, which served as kitchen, dining 
room, and bedroom. But as long as his mother 
was there he did not mind it. It was too bad 
that everything was so expensive. His mother 
had her pension but it was very small. She took 
in sewing, too, but she did not always have work 
and was poorly paid. They could not get milk 
nor meat, butter nor fat. All that they could 
afford was bread—black bread—turnips, once in a 

4 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 

while potatoes, and, as a special treat for Sun¬ 
day, a piece of sausage. But only a small piece 
cost a hundred crowns, so it was not every Sun¬ 
day that they could afford such a luxury. 

Henry marched off with his precious package, 
up one street and down another. Once in a while 
he would glance at the street cars as they thun¬ 
dered by and tried to reckon out how long it would 
take them to reach the foot of the hill. But 
this problem did not occupy his thoughts long, 
for there was something else that interested him 
much more. 

Far, far to the north of Germany there was 
a little country that was called Denmark, and 
up there were many children from Vienna, boys 
and girls.' Every month a train went up there 
with many hundreds of children and they stayed 
there three, four months. He knew six who had 
been in Denmark, and their account of their visit 
sounded like a fairy tale. There must be moun¬ 
tains of food in Denmark, milk, butter, meat, 
eggs, and many other things, and you could get 
all you wanted to eat and it cost almost noth¬ 
ing. Erich said that it cost only twenty heller 
to ride on a street car, while in Vienna it cost 
seven crowns, and food was in the same pro¬ 
portion. 


5 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


If only he might go to Denmark; but that was 
not so easy; there were too many on the list. His 
mother had tried but at the Hofburg they had said 
that they could not promise anything. Some went 
to Holland and others to Switzerland, but he 
wished to go to Denmark. In two months Erich, 
his chum, was going back there—perhaps to stay 
for six months. 

It was not until he stood at the foot of Kahlen- 
berg that his thoughts turned from Denmark 
which he had never seen but of which he had 
heard much. Now the hardest part of the trip 
was left—climbing the hill. The most direct 
way was straight up along the vineyards and 
through the forest. But he did not dare do this, 
for if he lost his way in the forest, he might not 
get home until dark and his mother would worry. 
It was best to follow the road which wound up in 
wide curves. Up ! up! past the villas, soon above 
the villas in whose gardens the first spring flowers 
were peeping forth. Up! up I past the slanting 
vineyards and wheat fields. A peep down over 
the city where the houses already appeared so 
small, then under the fir trees which cut off the 
view and left nothing but the sky to be seen. 
Forward and upward! No haste but a steady, 
advancing, sure gait. Henry is like a native 

6 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 

mountaineer. He knows that he must husband 
his strength. 

. He does not rest until he finally stands on the 
top of Kahlenberg. He goes to see the lookout 
tower. His father once took him up in it. Then 
he looks at the swings and the merry-go-round. 
Everything is still but he imagines it all in motion, 
just as he saw it one Sunday afternoon when he 
came from Joshua the peasant with his mother. 
While he stands and looks at the merry-go-round 
he suddenly feels a gnawing emptiness in his 
stomach. He understands the feeling and wishes 
he had a piece of bread; that would give such 
relief—for a little while. But he has no bread. 
He must wait till he comes to Joshua; perhaps 
he will get a piece there, or else he can eat some 
flour. That helps, too. 

The top of the hill is flat and extends a consid¬ 
erable distance. Henry walks to the east. Trees 
hide the view but he knows the way and he soon 
reaches the path that leads down to Joshua’s 
house. 

Forward and downward! No haste! It is 
harder to slip down than to climb up. But Henry 
knows this and his foothold is sure even where 
the path is steepest. 

When Henry stood in Joshua’s yard he began 

7 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


to consider what he should say but it was too 
late. Joshua stood before him. 

“What do you want?” 

Henry was startled but he quickly collected him¬ 
self and answered firmly. 

“Can I buy some flour?” 

“Not with money!” said Joshua, stroking his 
thick beard. “But you may have something else ?” 

“Yes, I have a dress. It is mother’s and it is 
very handsome.” 

Joshua immediately looked more amenable and 
asked Henry to enter the house. He showed the 
way and Henry followed him while he considered 
how much he ought to ask for the dress. In the 
low, dark room, the only window of which faced 
a steep, naked mountain wall, Henry unpacked the 
dress and handed it to Joshua who examined it 
carefully. 

“Yes, it is not worth much. It is thin. But you 
can have four pounds for it.” 

Joshua looked as if he were conferring a great 
favor in offering so much for it. But Henry grew 
quite pale with emotion. He had thought of at 
least ten pounds with some potatoes thrown in. 
But his mother had said that he should sell it for 
what Joshua would give. He did not know what 
to do. 


8 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 

“That is too little,” he stammered. “I can get 
more somewhere else.” 

“Then go somewhere else!” said Joshua, strok¬ 
ing his long yellow beard. “I did not send for 
you.” 

“I shall do so,” answered Henry, briskly. But 
in the same moment he regretted having said it. 
Where could he go? 

“Look at that rooster! He is hot-blooded!” 
Joshua murmured, at the same time examining the 
dress again. After the examination was ended 
he said: “You can have five pounds, but not a bit 
more.” 

“Then I will take the dress along with me,” 
Henry said, stretching out his hand for it. He 
realized that Joshua could be moved and he was 
determined to try out with him. 

“Will you make a fool of me, boy!” Joshua 
snarled. “I will give you seven pounds for it, 
nobody can give more. The dress is old and flour 
is high.” 

“I can easily get fifteen pounds for it,” Henry 
said and looked at Joshua with determination. 

Joshua changed his tactics. His voice grew 
mild and he blinked craftily. 

“You lie, young fellow. But there is the making 
of a business man in you. I will give you ten 

9 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

pounds, that is because you are such a clever boy. 
Hurry and take it; that is good pay.’^ 

But Henry knew that he was a better match for 
Joshua than his mother had ever been and this 
discovery emboldened him to a further effort. 

“I will not sell it for less than fifteen,” he said, 
pretending to be indifferent. 

“Have you lost your senses, boy I” cried Joshua, 
tearing his hair. “Fifteen pounds of flour for 
an old dress! Did you ever hear the like? You 
ought to be allowed to keep it but I will take it. 
Fifteen pounds, he is crazy!” 

Henry followed and saw that he got the right 
weight. He did not trust Joshua. He was not 
satisfied until he had the bag on his shoulders. 

“Will you give me a piece of bread?” he asked. 
“I am hungry and it is a long way home.” 

“Don’t you want a little pig, too!” snarled 
Joshua. “Off with you! You have got enough 
and don’t need to beg besides.” 

That was more than Henry could stand. 

“Bloodsucker!” he cried. “I hate you; you 
have cheated mother! Every time she was here 
you cheated her. She never begged and neither 
have I. You have been well paid, much more than 
you deserved.” 

As Henry fired this last salute he was on his way 

10 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 

out of the yard; and he did well to disappear, for 
Joshua was so enraged that he seized a stone and 
threw it at him. 

“Now you can try to come again!” Joshua 
yelled after him. “I will break your arms and legs 
if you come again 1 Do you hear?” 

“Yes I” Henry called back, his voice full of mis¬ 
chief. “I heard and I look forward to it.” 

“You are fresh,” Joshua replied. 

“I am only in a good humor,” Henry answered 
back, and those were the last words spoken. 
Henry hurried down while Joshua, growling and 
scolding, went in to examine the dress again and 
to calculate how much he had made. 

As soon as Henry thought that he was safe 
from Joshua he went up again to reach the path by 
which he had come. He felt so light and happy. 
He had made a good bargain; he would return 
with much more than his mother had expected. 
He whistled and sang. His hunger was forgotten, 
everything was glorious now. But his good humor 
sank when he found no way out but only a thick 
growth of raspberry bushes. He could not under¬ 
stand it, he had been so sure of himself. He 
looked around, trying to reckon out where he 
was but everything looked strange. Then he de¬ 
cided to begin to climb down. As soon as he 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

reached the foot of the hill he would be able to 
find the right direction or he could ask the way. 

Just after he had started he saw a figure below 
him. It was a little girl. He hurried in order 
to reach her. Perhaps she could tell him the 
way. But the little girl also hurried away and 
in spite of Henry’s efforts the distance between 
them remained unchanged. 

“Can’t you wait?” he cried at last. “You 
needn’t be afraid, I shan’t hurt you. I only want 
to ask the way.” 

The girl looked back at him and stopped run¬ 
ning and Henry was soon by her side. 

“You ran fast. You must have thought I was 
an ogre,” Henry said laughing. 

The girl did not answer but glanced at the bag 
which lay in two evenly divided bundles over his 
shoulders. She carried a basket but it was empty. 

“What do you have in your bag?” she asked. 

“It is flour.” 

“Where did you get it?” 

“From Joshua the peasant. But I paid for it— 
a fine dress of mother’s.” 

After they had gone a little farther the girl 
said: 

“I have been out too all day—and I have been 
many places but I did not get anything. I have 


12 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 

nothing to pay with. I have only begged and 
that is not so easy.” 

“Why didn’t you get something from home? 
The peasants don’t give anything away.” 

“We have nothing to sell,” the girl answered. 
“Mother is sick and father is out of work. We 
have sold so much that now there is nothing left 
and we have to beg. Beppo, my brother, begs on 
the streets, but I go out into the country and 
I sometimes get a little. To-day there was noth¬ 
ing but I’ll try again to-morrow.” 

The little girl looked again at the bag and said: 

“It was too bad I didn’t get some flour. Mother 
is so sick and she can’t eat the bread we have at 
home.” 

The little girl’s voice was so sad that Henry 
began to think. Would it be wrong for him to 
give her a little of his flour? His mother would 
not be angry with him. Anyhow they had more 
than they had counted on. 

“I will give you a little flour,” he said, turning 
his head away. 

“No, that is not worth while,” the little girl 
said, “your father would be angry.” 

“Father is dead; he fell in the War. But if he 
had lived he would not have said anything. And 
mother will not say anything, she is so good.” 

13 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Henry stopped and lifted the bag from his 
shoulders. 

“Haven’t you a bag or a piece of paper to put 
it in?” 

The little girl shook her head. She had only 
her basket. Henry looked puzzled but he soon 
smiled. 

“You can take off your apron, we will pour the 
flour in it and you can tie it up and put it into the 
basket.” 

The girl quickly followed his directions. She 
took off her apron and spread it on the ground 
and Henry put the bag on the apron and 
opened it. 

“I can’t give you half,” he said, “for we need 
it badly at home. But you will not go back empty- 
handed.” 

Henry scooped the flour from the bag—just a 
little. He would have liked to give a good deal, 
but there was not much to take from. He meas¬ 
ured with his eye what was in the apron and what 
was left in the bag, then he took out some more 
flour and tied up the bag again. The little girl 
hastened to tie the apron together around the 
costly gift. 

“Thank you very much,” she said, “mother will 
be happy. But what is your name?” 

14 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 

“My name is Henry Selmer, what is yours?” 

“Maria.” 

They stood for a while looking at each other, 
then Maria said: 

“I am hungry. Shan’t we sit down and eat? 
I have a piece of bread in my pocket. Haven’t 
you anything?” 

No, Henry had nothing, but he had been hungry 
for a long time. It was already after noon and 
he had eaten nothing since breakfast. 

?4aria invited him to a feast. They sat under 
a couple of large beech trees from which there was 
a glorious view over the slope of the hill to the 
blue girdle of the Danube and a part of the swarm 
of roofs of Vienna. Up there they had their meal 
of only a single course, a piece of bread without 
butter, a piece of dry bread, but it tasted good 
because they were hungry. 

“In a week I am going to Denmark,” Maria 
said, with a happy smile. They had finished eat¬ 
ing and enjoyed the rest. 

“To Denmark!” Henry exclaimed, with a 
start. “Have you been there before?” 

“Yes, four months, and I am going back to visit 
my old foster parents. It is the greatest fun 
and I get all I want to eat, meat and eggs and 
butter and fine white bread and milk. They 

15 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


have everything in Denmark. And, think, an egg 
costs only thirty hellers in Denmark; here it costs 
twenty crowns.” 

“What is your foster father?” Henry asked. 
He was a little inclined to envy Maria. 

“He is a merchant. He has a big store and 
two horses and every Sunday we drive out into 
the country.” 

Maria saw Henry’s despondent face and she 
immediately guessed whatwas the matter with him. 

“Haven’t you been in Denmark?” she a^'ked. 

“No,” said Henry, keeping back the tears with 
difficulty. “I want to go so much. I have a 
friend who has been there and is going again. 
He has told me so much. But perhaps I shall get 
there. Mother has been at the Hofburg twice, 
but they could not promise anything.” 

“You ought to go there yourself,” Maria said, 
nodding firmly. “That’s what I did. There is a 
gentleman up there, I don’t know his name, but 
he is tall and has no beard. He is so nice. When 
parents come he can say no, but not when there 
are children. I spoke to him and three days after 
I was told to get a doctor’s certificate. You ought 
to go up there.” 

Henry listened full of interest and when Maria 
was silent he said: 


i6 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 


“I will try. But are there many people there? 
It isn’t so easy to ask for a gentleman without a 
beard.” 

Henry laughed. He had regained his good 
humor and Maria laughed, too. 

“You must go there between eleven and 
twelve,” Maria said. “When you come up to 
the palace you must ask for the Danish children’s 
commission. On the walls of the room that you 
go into flags are painted which show the way to 
the office. It is the Danish flag, a red flag with a 
white cross, and between the flags is a sign, ‘Dan¬ 
ish Children’s Commission.’ You can’t miss it. 
There are a good many people there but you must 
speak to my friend and I am sure you will get 
away. If he is not there you can leave and come 
back another time.” 

Henry nodded. He could arrange all that if 
his mother would let him and she was sure to say 
yes, for she wanted him to go to Denmark. 

They stayed a while longer, talking about the 
promised land that lay up toward the north. 
Maria told about everything she had seen. But 
Henry suddenly remembered that he had to go 
home where his mother was waiting for him. 
He sprang up and threw the bag over his 
shoulders. 

17 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Do you know the way to the street-car line?’’ 
he asked. “I had better go that way.” 

Maria led the way and she was such a good 
walker that Henry was put to it to keep up with 
her. They continued to talk about Denmark. 

At the foot of the hill near the station they 
parted. They shook hands and Henry thanked 
Maria for what she had told him and Maria 
thanked him for the flour. 

It was late before Henry reached home and 
his mother received him with a warm embrace. 

“Henry, you must be hungry. I forgot to give 
you bread.” 

But Henry assured her that he had not missed 
it and then he began to tell about his trip, first of 
all about his bargaining with Joshua and then 
about Maria. 

“It was right for me to give her some flour, 
was it not?” he asked, after he had finished his 
account. “She was so nice and she was so sorry 
that she had nothing.” 

“It was quite right,” his mother said, “and, 
besides, you came home with much more than I 
had expected. It was well done, my boy, that 
you got so much from Joshua and that you could 
give the little girl something.” 

“Mother, Maria said that the peasants in 

i8 


A LITTLE MERCHANT 


Denmark are quite different from ours. They are 
so good, and many children are there from Vienna. 
They are called farmers and cotters and it is 
such fun to stay with them. If I could only go to 
Denmark and stay In the country I May I try 
to go up to the Hofburg? Perhaps I can get 
a place.” 

“I have been there twice,” Mrs. Selmer said, 
“but perhaps you can succeed. Now you must 
drink a little tea and we will sleep on it.” 

“I am sure It will be all right if I can see the 
gentleman without a beard,” Henry said and his 
mother laughed at his eagerness. 


II 


MEMORIES 

W HEN Henry came home from school 
the day after his expedition to Kahlen- 
berg his mother perceived that there 
was something that worried him and she imme¬ 
diately concluded that it was the excursion to 
Denmark. 

“What troubles you, Henry?” she asked. 

“We are going on a trip with Mr. Miinther 
to-morrow to the Capuchin Church and to the 
Hofburg. We are to meet at eight o’clock. I 
am so glad, mother. I have never seen the im¬ 
perial tombs.” \ 

Of all his studies Henry was most interested in 
the history of Austria. His father had been an 
officer and a warm friendship had existed between 
him and the murdered crown prince, Franz Ferdi¬ 
nand, a friendship that had started at the officers’ 
school and had continued until the assassination in 
Serajevo of the crown prince and his wife. 

Henry’s words reminded his mother of the 


20 


MEMORIES 


happy time when her husband was alive and they 
had friends. They were not rich, indeed, almost 
poor; but it was a happy time. They had loved 
each other, their child, their home, and they had 
hoped that their good fortune would continue. 
The friendship of the crown prince and his wife 
had been a source of great joy to them; but this 
joy had had an abrupt ending, which augured the 
shipwreck of their own happiness. 

Henry had eaten dinner at the American chil¬ 
dren’s commission, which had one of its numerous 
stations in Hohenbergstrasse and for the moment 
he had only one desire—to get his mother to tell 
something about the time of the empire. But he 
knew that this wish was not easily fulfilled. His 
mother did not like to talk about that time. How¬ 
ever, he would try. 

“Mother, I wish you would tell me a little 
about the heir apparent. Archduke Franz Fer¬ 
dinand. I can remember him and his wife and 
their children. Sophie was the oldest, then came 
Ernst, but there was another boy. What was his 
name?” 

Mrs. Selmer drew her hand over her forehead 
and her face twitched with sorrow. But she 
forced herself to smile and said: 

“He was named Max. But why shall I tell 

21 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


you? You are old enough to understand that it 
pains me to talk about those days.” 

“Yes, mother, but Mr. Munther told us to-day 
about the Emperor Franz Joseph and the heir 
apparent. He said that Austria would not have 
suffered so much if the heir apparent had lived 
and had become emperor instead of the Emperor 
Carl. Do you believe that?” 

“I do not know,” Mrs. Selmer said, “but I 
know that the Archduke was a good man and your 
father’s best friend. And I know that your father 
was beside himself when he heard about the mur¬ 
der in Serajevo. But come and I will tell 
you the story. But you must promise me to take 
a walk when I have finished.” 

Mrs. Selmer sat on the edge of the bed and 
began to relate as follows: 

“The friendship between your father and the 
heir apparent began long before I met your 
father. It was at the officers’ school and at that 
time the Archduke was not yet heir apparent. 
He was chosen soon after the death of the Crown 
Prince Rudolph. 

“The heir apparent was a reserved man. He 
had had an unhappy childhood and he never got 
over its effects. He once took your father into 
his confidence and asked him to be his friend. He 


22 


MEMORIES 


said that he had never had a friend but that He 
must find one or else his gloomy thoughts would 
get the better of him. Their friendship lasted 
until it was ended by death. When the Archduke 
Franz Ferdinand was appointed heir apparent 
your father wished to withdraw from his relation 
of friendship with the future emperor, but the 
archduke would not permit it. He declared that 
he had more use for a friend then than ever 
before. The relation, therefore, remained un¬ 
changed and your father became the heir appar¬ 
ent’s adjutant, a position that gave him much joy 
and aroused much envy in others. 

“In a matter that was all-important for the 
heir apparent your father advised and supported 
him with all his might. It cost him his position 
as adjutant, but your father has told me that if 
he had been reduced to the ranks he would have 
given the same advice. 

“As you know, a member of the imperial family 
may not marry beneath his station, least of all a 
future emperor. Therefore, people were troubled 
when they learned that the heir apparent had 
fallen in love with a court lady, Sophie von 
Chotek who, although she was of noble birth, was 
not a princess. The heir apparent went to the 
emperor and confessed to him and asked his per- 

23 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


mission to marry. But the emperor flew into a 
rage and commanded the heir apparent to go 
abroad and stay there until he had recovered from 
his madness. 

“When the heir apparent went abroad he was 
accompanied by your father as his secretary. The 
heir apparent knew that Sophie Chotek’s mail was 
examined, so he did not dare to send her letters 
through the post office. But he could not give up 
his correspondence with her, so your father went 
back and forth with their messages. He had to 
disguise himself every time he crossed the frontier, 
but he said that the thought of the joy with which 
he was received by them made the journey short 
and the difficulties slight. 

“The heir apparent’s journey abroad lasted a 
year. When he returned and again demanded the 
right to marry the woman he loved, the emperor 
yielded. But a short time afterward your father 
was appointed on the general staff and the heir 
apparent was told to choose another adjutant. 
In some way the emperor had learned that your 
father had been the archduke’s right-hand man. 
The archduke tried to prevent the transfer, but 
the emperor was immovable. It was at that time 
that I met your father. 

“You have had a father to be proud of—good, 

24 


MEMORIES 


brave, faithful and free from boasting. He told 
me nothing about his friendship with the archduke 
and Sophie von Hohenberg, as the archduke’s wife 
was now called until one day he came and said: 

“ ‘You must go with me to Konopischt. Will 
you be ready to-morrow at eight?’ 

“I knew that Konopischt was a palace that be¬ 
longed to the archduke and that it was in 
Bohemia, but I could not understand why your 
father had so suddenly decided to go there. I 
must have shown my surprise, for your father 
smiled and gave me a card. On reading it I 
was no less surprised, for it read as follows: 

*We have for a long time been expecting to see you 
and your future wife here at Kanopischt, Come this 
week! This is a command. 

Sophie and Franz Ferdinand."' 

“I did not know what to think and asked your 
father for an explanation when I first learned of 
his friendship with the archduke. I remember 
that I did not look forward to that visit with 
pleasure; it seemed to me too distinguished an 
acquaintance. But your father comforted me with 
the assurance that I would soon change my mind. 
The archduke was a reserved man, but genial and 
faithful to his friends, and Sophie von Hohen- 

25 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


berg was sincere and natural, a wife who lived 
and breathed for her husband. 

“Finally I allowed myself to be persuaded. We 
spent three days at the wonderful Kanopischt, 
days that I shall never forget. I remember what 
the archduke said to me when I was presented 
and he saw my embarrassment: ‘I am your future 
husband’s friend, nothing else. Regard my wife 
and me as your friends—and forget the high¬ 
nesses.’ And these were not mere words. They 
both loved your father and they could not do 
enough for us. We walked in the beautiful park, 
we drove up into the mountains and spent the 
evenings in the archduke’s study. All court eti¬ 
quette was forgotten. ‘We will be human beings,’ 
the archduke said, ‘without regard to what the 
Hofburg may think.’ 

“Later, after your father and I were married, 
we often received an invitation to Belvedere, 
where the archduke and his wife spent a part of 
every year, or a card came announcing that they 
would visit us. Many were scandalized that the 
archduke should visit us and that we should be en¬ 
tertained at his palaces. They thought that there 
were enough noble officers for the archduke to 
interest himself in, instead of a poor officer of 
the middle class. But the archduke was faithful 

26 


MEMORIES 


in his friendship, as was also Sophie von 
Hohenberg. 

“Then came the frightful day when the arch¬ 
duke and his wife were murdered in Serajevo. 
One of your father’s fellow-officers brought us the 
news and your father was completely overcome. 
I wept, but your father could not weep. He was 
almost paralyzed with grief. ‘I must go out to the 
children,’ he groaned again and again. ‘They are 
at Kanopischt. The little Sophie cannot bear it, 
she is so delicate.’ 

“I tried in vain to restrain him. He drove in an 
automobile to Kanopischt, but when he arrived the 
children had been taken to the Hofburg. He 
then drove to Serajevo where he arrived in time 
to accompany the bodies to Vienna. That was 
a consolation. 

“When the funeral took place in the chapel at 
the Hofburg, your father was one of the guard of 
honor by the coffin of the archduke. He never 
learned who had granted him this last dear ser¬ 
vice to his friend, but some thought that it was 
the emperor himself.” 

Mrs. Selmer was silent and stared before her 
but Henry drew a deep breath and said: 

“Mother, I remember the archduke and Sophie 
Hohenberg. She was always so kind and 

27 


von 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


friendly and so was the archduke. I especially 
remember the daughter Sophie. She kissed me 
once when I fell and hurt myself. That must 
have been at Belvedere. I remember another 
time at Belvedere. Little Sophie, Ernst, and I 
were alone in the nursery, playing, when the em¬ 
peror came in. Sophie made a low curtsey and 
Ernst bowed but for the moment I could not think 
which I ought to do. So I stood straight and the 
emperor smiled and asked me my name and who 
my father was. But I had forgotten everything 
and could not answer and then the emperor 
laughed and asked if I was afraid of him.” 

Mrs. Selmer did not hear what Henry was 
saying. Her thoughts were far away. Her eyes 
were staring, her face had stiffened, the only sign 
of life was a slight quivering of the mouth. Henry 
looked at his mother and started. He could not 
bear to see his mother’s grief. He leaned toward 
her, placed his hand over hers, and cried: 

“Mother!” 

The terror in Henry’s voice recalled his mother 
to consciousness. She sighed, relaxed, and turning 
to him, said: 

“What is the matter, my boy? I was away 
for a little while with your father, up in the 
mountain where the eternal snow lies. It helps 

28 


MEMORIES 


me to go there once in a while in my thoughts. 
But you cannot understand that. We have so 
much that is hard to bear, Henry. What do you 
want?” 

“I only want to say that you must not be 
sad. I shall soon be grown up and I shall work 
so that we can buy some pretty furniture again 
and get enough food. I shall always stay with 
you, so that you will not be alone.” 

“That is a good boy. But now go and leave 
me alone. You promised me to do that. When 
you return I shall be in a good humor again.” 

When Henry had left the house he considered 
where he should go—to the Meidlinger railroad 
station or to Schonbrunn Palace. It was not easy 
to make a choice. The station was no longer 
used and the broad space with the many tracks 
and old discarded locomotives was a fine play¬ 
ground for the boys of the neighborhood. But 
his mother’s story made Schonbrunn appear more 
attractive than usual. The emperor had lived 
there and there the archduke and Sophie von 
Hohenberg had taken part in many entertain¬ 
ments. The choice finally fell on Schonbrunn. 

At the end of Hohenbergstrasse there is an en¬ 
trance to the palace park which was open to the 
public. Henry walked through the park to the 

29 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


great hall from the roof of which there is a won¬ 
derful view over the whole of Vienna and out 
towards the mountains surrounding it. Henry 
stopped and gazed at the roof. He wished that 
he might go up but it cost money; everything cost 
money. 

“Do youv wish to go up on the roof?” asked 
an elderly man, in a shiny, black suit and a uniform 
cap. 

Henry shook his head and said in explanation: 

“I would like to but I have no money.” 

“No,” said the old man, shaking his head, “we 
have no more money in Austria. The War took 
it all. You are young. Perhaps you will see a 
new, splendid sunrise; but I am old. For me 
there is nothing but eternal night. How have 
we sinned that our punishment should be so 

O’’ 

severe r 

Henry could not answer but he looked at the 
old man and saw in his face the same grief, despair 
and hopelessness that he had seen in his mother’s. 
And the old man stood and nodded his head as if 
there were many truths to be confirmed. 

“See, my boy. I served in the palace down 
there for forty years. I was a valet and the old 
emperor often talked with me when no one was 
looking. Now the palace is only a museum. We 

30 


MEMORIES 


have no emperor, all the servants have gone, only 
inquisitive people come to gaze and to rejoice 
that the old times have passed. They took pity 
on me and made me an inspector here in the 
park.” 

“Did you know the heir apparent and his wife, 
Sophie von Hohenberg?” 

“I have often seen them,” the old man said, 
“and I have talked with Sophie von Hohenberg. 
Her highness was always so kind. She was an 
angel and her children were lovely. Even the 
emperor finally grew fond of her. I once saw 
them walking where we are standing now and the 
emperor suddenly stopped and kissed Sophie 
von Hohenberg on the forehead.” 

“I knew the heir apparent and Sophie von 
Hohenberg,” Henry said, “I visited them at 
Belvedere.” 

The old man looked astonished. His tired 
eyes examined Henry, but he found too many 
patches on his clothes. 

“You must be lying,” he said, striking the 
ground with his cane. 

“No, I am not,” Henry assured him eagerly, 
“I have been at Belvedere several times. And 
they visited us, too.” 

“Who is your father?” the old man asked. 

31 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Father was a major but he fell in the War. 
His name was Selmer.” 

“Selmer, Selmer I” The old man’s face cleared. 
“Then I have seen your father. You are speaking 
the truth, my boy. He was the heir apparent’s 
friend. He carried letters between him and 
Sophie Chotek. The emperor was angry with 
your father for a time, but when the heir apparent 
died the emperor wished to have your father stand 
guard at the bier. I know it.” 

The old man took Henry’s head between his 
hands and tears poured down his cheeks. 

“Major Selmer’s son,” he groaned, “and in 
patched clothes. There are many of us that have 
burdens to bear. Perhaps we shall be able to bear 
the burden until we are free and it is bright 
again. . . .” 

The old man asked Henry where he lived and 
Henry told him all about his home which had 
grown poorer and poorer. He told also about 
his disappointed hope, the trip to Denmark of 
which he had heard so much. 

“I have a grandson who is in Denmark,” the 
old man said. “According to his letters, Denmark 
must be a wonderful country. It is too bad you 
cannot go there. But there are so many that it 
is not easy.” 


32 


MEMORIES 

The old man stood and gazed ahead of him 
and then said: 

“Have you been at the Hofburg?” 

“No, but mother has been there twice.” 

“Did she say that you were Major Selmer’s 
son?” 

“I do not know,” Henry said. “But would that 
help?” 

“Perhaps. There are still men in Austria faith¬ 
ful to the memory of the emperor. If they learn 
that you are Major Selmer’s son I am sure you 
will go. ... You must go there. We will go 
together. I will speak in your favor. Of course 
Major Selmer’s son must go to Denmark. When 
can you go? To-morrow at eleven?” 

“Yes, if mother will let me go.” Henry’s face 
beamed with joy at the prospect that his dream 
would be realized. 

“We will go to see your mother,” the old man 
said, looking at his watch. “I must learn where 
she lives. After you are gone I will visit her. 
I have still a little left from the old times and as 
long as I have something Major Selmer’s wife 
shall not starve.” 

Henry looked at the old man and thought to 
himself that he had never seen so kind a face. 
Then he seized his hand and said: 

33 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

“Why are you so good to mother and me? 
You do not know us and you did not even know 
father.” 

“I have seen your father,” the old man said, 
“and he was a handsome man. He was the friend 
of the heir apparent and Sophie von Hohenberg, 
and therefore I honor his memory.” 

It was a memorable evening for all three and 
it made them forget for a while the last wretched 
years. The old inspector and Mrs. Selmer talked 
and Henry listened. When the inspector finally 
took leave, it was determined that he and Henry 
should meet at one of the entrances to the palace 
the following morning at eleven. 

“You will see that you go to Denmark,” 
the old man said, as he started down the 
stairs. 

“I believe so, too,” Henry answered. 

But his mother kissed his forehead. 

“My boy so far away in a strange land,” she 
said. “It is hard to imagine. But I shall be 
happy. You need good food, you are so pale and 
thin.” 

The old inspector called out good-by again. 
They replied and went in. Two chairs, a little 
table, a bed and a wardrobe—that was all that 
was left of a pretty home. No curtains at the 

34 


MEMORIES 


windows, no bedspread, no tablecloth. Poverty- 
showed everywhere. 

“Mother, don’t you think that some time we 
shall be able to buy back some of the old furni¬ 
ture, father’s divan, for example?” 

“I hope so,” Mrs. Selmer said, with a sigh, 
“but you must go to bed, Henry. It is late.” 


Ill 


AT THE HOFBURG 


W ITHOUT much difficulty Henry found 
the entrance, and he was soon joined 
by Mr. Gutmeister. 

“Are you here?” Mr. Gutmeister said. “You 
have your recommendation from school?” 

Henry gave it to him and they went up to the 
office. It was crowded with children and grown 
people and the officials had their hands full. 
Henry looked around for the gentleman without 
a beard. There he sat at a table. He had no 
beard. 

Henry pulled the inspector’s coat and said: 
“There is the gentleman without a beard. Will 
you speak to him?” 

The old inspector went up to the desk, saluted 
and presented his business. Henry stood by his 
side with beating heart. But the answer was not 
very reassuring: 

“We will put his name on the list; but it will be 
a long time before he gets away, perhaps never.” 

36 


AT THE HOFBURG 

“He is a son of Major Selmer, Henry Selmer. 
His father gave his life for his country and now 
his mother is so poor. It seems to me that he has 
a special claim.” 

The gentleman at the desk leaned forward and 
took Henry’s hand and spoke to him: 

“So you are Henry Selmer’s son! You shall 
go to Denmark on the first train, in a week.” He 
held his hand before his eyes a moment while 
Henry glowed with happiness. “Your father was 
my comrade,” the gentleman said. “Before the 
War I knew him only slightly but we joined the 
same regiment and he fell by my side. He was a 
good man and a brave soldier. Be like him. Of 
course you shall go to Denmark. I shall arrange 
it all. Now you must get a medical certificate and 
send it here.” 

Henry and the old inspector thanked him but 
the gentleman at the desk shook old Gutmeister’s 
hand and said: 

“No, I must thank you because you looked after 
Henry Selmer’s son. You have done me a service 
and I thank you.” 

The inspector and Henry left the room and the 
latter was in such a hurry to carry the news home 
that his old friend could hardly keep up with 
him. 


37 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


‘‘Wait a moment,” the old inspector cried, “I 
want to go home with you and speak with your 
mother. Perhaps I can help her in some way.” 

During the following days Mrs. Selmer smiled 
and appeared happy while Henry was present, 
but when he was away she often struggled hard 
to keep back her tears and not always successfully. 
She rejoiced at his good fortune, but it was hard 
to think of his going away to a strange land— 
leaving her alone. She would not see him for 
several months and they had never been separated 
before for a single day. It pained her, too, to 
have to send him away like a poor boy, with 
patched clothes, old shoes, and almost entirely 
without underclothes. But it was necessary. She 
realized more clearly than ever before how poor 
they were. She was free from worry only when 
she slept, and many nights she could not sleep. 

A few days before the departure Joseph Gut- 
meister and his wife called with a package for 
Henry. It contained a pair of stockings, a pair 
of trousers, and a cap. 

“A suit was too expensive,” the old inspector 
said, apologetically, “so we bought the stockings 
and the cap instead. That makes two pieces 
instead of one.” 

“How could you think of such a thing!” Mrs. 

38 


AT THE HOFBURG 


Selmer said, her voice choked with tears. “It 
is too much. I can never repay you.” 

“Don’t say anything about it!” Joseph Gut- 
meister said. “They did not cost much. We are 
alone, mother and I, and we have clothes enough 
from before the War.” 

They spent a pleasant evening together. The 
food was Spartan, consisting of black bread and 
tea, but a quiet joy pervaded the bare room. 
Two found joy in giving, two, in receiving. 

“Good-by and many, many thanks,” Mrs. Sel¬ 
mer said. “May God reward you for all your 
love.” 

“Farewell and thanks for receiving us. We 
are only plain folk, but we had our bright days 
when you had yours and we know and share your 
grief,” the old inspector said, drawing his hand 
across his eyes. “In a few years I shall be no 
more; my time is past. God grant that the young 
people may do more than the old ones I We must 
do everything for our young people; on them rest 
the tasks that we neglected or failed to perform.” 

Mrs. Gutmeister took Mrs. Selmer’s hand and 
whispered: 

“You have a fine boy. Rejoice that he is 
going to Denmark where he can gain strength to 
withstand the winter.” 


39 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

After their guests had left Mrs. Selmer said to 
Henry: 

“Nobody is so poor as to be without friends, 
and we have ours. Do not forget to thank God 
and never forget those who are kind to you.” 

And Henry nodded his head. He, too, felt that 
he had much to be thankful for. 


IV 


A DANISH HOME 

T he owner of Kjaerholm, Henrik Lund, 
and his wife sat in the twilight, she with 
her knitting, he with his pipe. He had 
been talking about the day’s work and what should 
be done on the morrow and she had listened, 
rejoicing over the energy that echoed in his speech. 
Then they had discussed their only child and their 
words were troubled. Carl was not strong. He 
had suffered many ailments, and they had con¬ 
sumed his strength and courage. Just now he was 
not ill, but his cheeks were pale and he complained 
all the time of feeling tired. He was far from 
being the robust boy they would have wished him 
to be. 

“Do you know, mother,” Henrik Lund finally 
said, “I believe he ought to have a companion to 
play around with. He is all the time with women 
and that is not the way for a twelve-year-old boy 
to live. You spoil him with your care. And you 
are not the worst one, either. Maren is quite 

41 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


impossible, the old pepper pot! She would be 
delighted to carry him around all day and would 
like to rock him to sleep every night. Yesterday 
when you were at the smith’s I happened to go 
out into the kitchen and found Carl with one leg 
in a tub of warm water and Maren on her knees 
before him, taking off his other stocking. I asked 
them what they were doing and Maren explained 
that Carl had got his feet wet and that they must 
be warmed before he put on dry stockings. Then 
I imprudently asked if he was so weak that he 
could not take off his own stockings. But I was 
driven out with blessings that were sincere and 
powerful. I understood only cattle, not children. 
I was heartless, a monster, that did not love my 
own child. I did not hear any more for I ran 
away.” 

Mr. Lund laughed heartily at the thought of 
Maren’s righteous wrath and his wife joined him. 
She knew that Maren did not mean anything with 
her angry words. 

“Maren is all right,” she said, “she has fussed 
over Carl since he was a baby and she loves him 
more than anybody else in the world. She is as 
good as gold and a splendid servant. But you 
know that just as well as I do and would not let 
her go for anything. I have worried too that 

42 


A DANISH HOME 

Carl is without companions of his own age, for 
ever since Neils Frederick moved away, he has not 
had a single friend.” 

“I have an idea,” Lund said. “We hear a lot 
about those starving boys in Vienna. Why not take 
one of about Carl’s age? We have plenty of 
room and food and Carl would have a comrade 
whom he needs.” 

“But we cannot talk with a foreign boy,” Mrs. 
Lund said, dropping her knitting in her lap. 

“Not at first but we can make signs and every¬ 
body understands the sign language. It won’t be 
long before a youngster learns to speak Danish 
when he does not hear any German. Let us decide 
to take one of these boys for Carl’s sake and 
one that is not too quiet. I would like to see 
Carl come home with a torn coat or trousers.” 

Mrs. Lund smiled at her husband’s eagerness. 
“You express yourself rather forcibly but fortu¬ 
nately I know you so well that I understand what 
you mean. You wish Carl to develop into a real 
man and you don’t think the prospects are very 
good at present. Perhaps you are right. We can 
at least try what a little boy from Vienna can do.” 

“Then I shall telephone to Consul Besser- 
mann,” Mr. Lund said. “He is in charge and 
meets the children at the border. I will ask him 

43 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


to send a regular little rascal who can turn Kjaer- 
holm upside down. He must be able to find a boy 
like that in such a crowd.” 

“Be careful!” Mrs. Lund laughed. “I remem¬ 
ber how you were as a boy, full of tricks from 
morning till night. Do you think I should be 
happy if Carl grew to be like that? I am not 
so sure. Your parents were not always delighted 
with you.” 

“Maybe not,” Henrik Lund admitted, “but I 
don’t believe that they often had cause to be 
ashamed of me. There was no malice in my 
monkeyshines. I really wish Carl to be shaken up. 
He needs to have his lungs filled with fresh air. 
A boy should be a boy and not a sissy.” 

Mr. Lund was interrupted by Maren who came 
shuffling in with the evening coffee and he told her 
about the expected visitor. 

“Next Saturday a boy is coming here for the 
vacation for Carl to tumble about with.” 

Maren put down the tray and assumed her 
favorite position with her hands at her sides and 
her head slightly turned. 

“Where is he coming from?” she asked. 

“From Vienna, I believe.” 

“Where is Vienna? It isn’t here in Jutland, 
is it?” Maren asked cautiously. 

44 


A DANISH HOME 


“No, it is in Austria,’’ Mr. Lund informed her. 

“Oh! the dear child, it must be way down 
South,” Maren exclaimed, clasping her hands. 
“How did you hear about him?” she asked sus¬ 
piciously for Mr. Lund sometimes teased her and 
she was always ready for him. 

“I don’t know anything about him.” 

Maren was astonished. Then Mr. Lund ex¬ 
plained to her how the children there needed help 
in order not to succumb to hunger. But these 
explanations did not improve Maren’s temper. 
The country and its distress were too distant for 
her to grasp. 

“Do you think, Henrik Lund,” Maren said, 
“that it is right to take in a strange boy? These 
Spaniols, or whatever they are called, are so hot¬ 
headed. You run the risk of having the poor 
Carl half killed. And you don’t know him. He 
may have fleas and other hopping and creeping 
creatures. An Austrian boy from Spain! No, 
Henrik Lund, you are queer at times. Yes, I 
know that you are my master, but you do have 
some strange notions.” 

“I thought you were fond of children and 
that you would be glad to have another boy to 
look after,” Mr. Lund said, quietly. “It is really 
for Carl’s sake that we are taking him. Carl 

45 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


needs a playmate to cheer him up. Don’t you 
think so?” 

But Maren refused to be influenced. Her hands 
were still on her hips and her expression was far 
from mild. 

“Carl is a good boy,” she said, “and it is a 
shame to make him go with a dirty, wicked monkey 
from the south. But what do you say, Marie 
Lund ? Do you want to have a dirty boy in your 
clean beds?” 

“Perhaps he isn’t dirty, Maren,” Mrs. Lund 
said, trying to pacify her old servant. “If he is 
dirty we can wash him. We have soap and water. 
You will see that everything will be all right and 
that Carl will be happy to have him.” 

“Well, I shan’t wash him,” Maren said, tossing 
her head. “You will be sorry. Carl is as good 
a boy as you can find, but there is no telling what 
will become of him if such a fellow comes here.” 

With these words Maren marched toward the 
door. But glancing back she saw a smile on Mr. 
Lund’s face. Exasperated she turned around and 
exclaimed: 

“You can laugh, Henrik Lund. I shan’t wash 
him and if he has fleas you can hunt for them 
yourself. I was not hired for that sort of 
business.” 


46 


A DANISH HOME 


“You are so fond of teasing Maren,” Mrs. 
Lund said, “can’t you get over the habit?” 

“Maybe, but she can’t get along without it. 
You say yourself that she misses me when I am 
away from home for a few days.” 

“So she does. She is afraid something will 
happen to you and sometimes she makes me 
afraid, too.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Lund drank their coffee and dis¬ 
cussed with great interest how they could make 
the strange boy feel at home, where he should 
sleep, and what would be needed for him. At 
last they went in to see if Carl was awake. He 
had not fallen asleep yet so they told him about 
his new playmate and asked him if he was not 
glad to have company. 

“I don’t know,” was his answer. 


V 


THE CHILDREN’S TRAIN 

T he great day had at last arrived. Henry 
woke up early. He had been traveling all 
night in his dreams, and several times he 
had been left behind at some station far from the 
boundary of the promised land. When he opened 
his eyes and discovered that he was still at home 
he felt relieved and promised himself that the 
dream should not be realized. But, wide awake, 
he was filled with joy. To-day, in seven or eight 
hours he would be at the station. There was the 
train and he would ride straight to Denmark, 
where it was so delightful. 

Henry lay quiet for a while, he would not waken 
his mother. But the time passed so slowly. 
Finally he bent over his mother and kissed her on 
the forehead. When she opened her eyes he 
said: 

“It is morning, mother, and I am going away 
to-day.” 

“Yes, this is the day for you to leave,” his 

48 


THE CHILDREN’S TRAIN 


mother said, making an effort to smile. Then they 
lay and talked. Her words had an undercur¬ 
rent of sadness but he was full of the joy of 
anticipation. 

“Be a good boy and write to me,” she begged. 
He promised, he was ready to promise anything. 
“Remember that you must always obey your foster 
parents and do not forget your prayers. And in 
happy Denmark you must not forget your own 
wretched country. If you become a good man 
your place will be here, where you can help your 
country. If you become a good for naught then 
it can get along without you and nobody will 
grieve if you forget your own country for another. 
I expect you to take after your father and you 
must never deny your fatherland.” 

Henry nodded confidently. He would never 
forget his country. 

The old Meidlinger station which was usually 
empty and forsaken was full of life. The waiting 
room was a mass of humanity, in which jostled 
men, women, and children, all trying to get onto 
the platform. They were eager, hot, and laugh¬ 
ing and they all looked as if they were bound for 
a special festivity. Outside of the station 
swarmed a crowd of people who could not 
get in. 


49 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

It was the children’s day. All who were going 
away carried small cards on a string about their 
necks. This card admitted them to the train 
which would bear the lucky ones northward to the 
wonderland where there was an abundance of 
food and clothing and happiness. For weeks the 
children had been dreaming of this day and now 
it had arrived. Six hundred children were to take 
the train but the crowd numbered thousands. 

“Only the children that are to go away may stay 
in the waiting room. All the others must go out I 
After the children have taken their places in the 
cars admission will be given to the platform.” 

The order was given three times but it was too 
late. Many could not obey the order, others 
would not. It was hard for parents to give up 
their children. Suddenly a commotion arose at 
the entrance. The Danish escorts took the 
offensive and without mercy turned out all those 
who were not going on the train. At first many 
protests were heard but when the people perceived 
the white bands with the Danish flags on the arms 
of the officials they submitted good-naturedly. 
They would endure more from the Danes than 
from their own people. When the waiting room 
had been cleared the Danes stood at the entrance 
and admitted only children with train cards. Boys 

50 


THE CHILDREN’S TRAIN 


and girls hastened down the steps to the platform, 
talking and laughing. 

At the first platform stood a train consisting of 
ten large cars and a diner. The cars were num¬ 
bered and the children who had their car numbers 
on their cards easily found their places. By half 
past two all the children were in the train and 
admission to the platform was granted to their 
friends. At a window in car Number 8 stood 
Henry, filled with the thought that he would soon 
be on his way from Vienna to Denmark. 

“Are you happy, my boy?” his mother asked. 

“Yes, mother, if you could only go with me it 
would be perfect.” 

“Do not think of me,” his mother said, controll¬ 
ing her feelings. “While you are away I shall 
have so much to live on that I can eat as much as 
I want. You must not worry about me. But be 
sure to write to me about everything. Good-by, 
Henry. Be a good boy and do not forget me 1” 

The train glided slowly out of the station. The 
children shouted and waved their caps and hand¬ 
kerchiefs and small Danish flags. A powerful 
voice raised itself above the rest: 

“Farewell, children of Austria! Come back 
safe and sound! Long live Denmark, the won¬ 
derland of the north!” 


51 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

As soon as the children learned that the leaders 
of the expedition spoke German they asked them 
thousands of questions, most of which could not 
be answered in the confusion. Many of them had 
never been outside of Vienna, so they had much 
to learn. 

Henry stood in the passage by a window. He, 
too, had many questions to ask but for the moment 
he was so absorbed in the quickly shifting land¬ 
scape that he did not find time to ask them. The 
rhythm of the train sounded in his ears like lively 
music and as it passed over the switches near the 
stations and rushed by the platforms at full speed 
with a roar he was filled with a dizzy joy and 
felt new strength that he had not known before. 
Henry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. 
It was one of the conductors, an elderly man with 
a gray beard and firm but friendly eyes. 

“What is your name?” he asked. His voice 
was mild, but it had an undertone of authority. 

“My name is Henry Selmer.” Henry thought 
that the strange gentleman’s eyes reminded him of 
eyes that he had once known. 

“You look like a fine fellow. Have you been 
in Denmark before?” 

“No, this is the first time,” Henry answered, 

52 


THE CHILDREN’S TRAIN 


still trying to remember of whom the eyes re¬ 
minded him. 

“Do you think you will be homesick?” the gen¬ 
tleman asked. 

Henry shook his head: 

“Not homesick, but I am sure I shall miss 
mother. She has nobody but me.” 

“Have you no father, my boy?” 

Henry looked at the stranger’s eyes. Now he 
knew why they seemed so familiar. They were 
just like his father’s. It was strange that he had 
not thought of it right away. But that must be 
because it was so long since he had seen his father. 

“Have you no father, my boy?” the stranger 
asked again, on receiving no reply. 

“No, father fell in the War.” 

The conductor regretted having asked him and 
hastened to change the subject. 

“Do you know what I am? I am a teacher. 
I am accustomed to boys and know how to treat 
them.” 

“Are we going through Czechia?” Henry 
asked. He could not resist the temptation to 
learn something. 

“Yes, we shall. Are you afraid of the Czechs?” 

“I am not afraid of them but I hate them. We 


53 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


hate them because they fell upon us in the rear. 
They are traitors.” 

The old teacher perceived the fire in Henry’s 
eyes, the same fire he had seen in the eyes of 
grown people when they spoke of the Czechs. He 
did not like it for it implied dissension in the com¬ 
ing years. 

“Do not use such heated words, Henry,” he 
said. “You are too young to understand such 
things. Wait until you are grown up, when you 
may regard the Czechs more mildly. Then read 
their history and it will not appear so bad. They 
have dreamed of a freedom which they once pos¬ 
sessed and which they have now regained. The 
Austrians would undoubtedly have acted in the 
same way if they had been seeking freedom.” 

When the teacher had ceased speaking Henry 
stood for a moment with his eyes fixed on the 
floor. Then he looked up again with flashing 
eyes. 

“I am angry with the Czechs because they have 
made Austria a small country. We have no em¬ 
peror any more and that is their fault, too. They 
fled from their banners and joined the enemy. 
Father would never have done that.” 

Flenry’s voice vibrated with passion and the old 
teacher changed the subject. He asked Henry 

54 


THE CHILDREN’S TRAIN 

about his school work and what studies he enjoyed 
most. Henry had always been fond of school and 
was only too glad to talk about it and his teachers. 

The train stopped. 

“That is Retz,” the teacher said. “We shall 
soon leave Austria. I shall be relieved of my 
watch at six o’clock.” 

“Won’t you come back?” Henry asked. He 
liked his new acquaintance and was sorry to have 
him leave. 

“Yes, I shall come back at nine. There are two 
of us in each car and each of us is on duty for 
three hours.” 

The teacher left and Henry looked after him. 
Yes, his father’s eyes were just like his. He won¬ 
dered if his father would have said that the 
Czechs were not so bad. 

Henry suddenly came to think of Maria. She 
was to go on this train and he wished to speak to 
her. But they were not allowed to leave the car 
and anyway it would be awkward to go into a car 
filled with girls. Just then a boy came in from 
the next car and said to the teacher: 

“Will you please send two boys to the diner 
for bread and butter and tea?” 

The teacher nodded to Henry and a tall, freck¬ 
led boy, who stood near him. 

55 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Will you get the tea and bread and butter? 
They are in the first car.” 

The boys started off willingly and in the car 
before the diner Henry saw Maria. 

“Are you here?” Maria said. “Then you must 
have seen the gentleman without a beard.” 

“Yes, I did. But it was another one who helped 
me. I must hurry. I must bring food. They say 
it is Danish food.” 

“It is,” Maria said, “and you can be sure it 
tastes good.” 

The train slowed down and passed over a 
bridge across the river Thaja. At the same time 
the chief of the expedition, an Austrian major, 
walked through the car. 

“All windows must be closed and kept closed as 
long as we are in Czechia!” he announced. “No 
child must talk with train officials or with any one 
else.” 

The diner was a baggage car, with a long table, 
a range and utensils of various kinds. There were 
boxes of provisions all around and a couple of 
wicker chairs at one side which looked as if they 
had got lost in the confusion. There were three 
ladies in long white smocks, who had been busy 
buttering great heaps of sandwiches. The stew¬ 
ard who was sitting on a box looking tired out 

56 


THE CHILDREN’S TRAIN 

after his recent exertions, cried out in a thun¬ 
dering voice: 

“What do you want?” 

The boys were somewhat alarmed, but Henry 
discovered a sly twinkle behind the steward’s 
eyeglasses. 

“We are hungry,” he replied, “very hungry.” 

“Are you?” the steward said, looking a little 
milder. “Can you make use of tea and sand¬ 
wiches ?” 

“We can eat whatever we get,” Henry an¬ 
swered, looking boldly at the steward. 

“That is fine. To-morrow we shall have sweet 
soup. With such customers I don’t suppose it 
will matter if it is burned.” 

Henry was given a pail of tea and the other 
boy a large basket of sandwiches and cakes with 
which they returned to their car. The teacher 
had not left when they got back and he directed 
the children to their places and the meal began. 
Every child had his own cup for the tea and was 
given plenty of sandwiches. They had good 
appetites and were in splendid spirits. Dur¬ 
ing the meal they left Znaim and entered 
Czechia. 

“If we were only in Germany,” Henry said to 
the freckled boy. “I do not like the Czechs.” 

57 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Why not?” the other one asked. “I was born 
in Czechia and my father came from Prague.” 

Henry hastened to attack his sandwich again, 
to avoid answering and the freckled boy did not 
repeat his question. 


VI 


AN ENEMY 

T he train stopped at Iglau on a side track 
without the locomotive. The conductor 
protested but the station master only 
shrugged his shoulders. The conductor threat¬ 
ened but the station master again shrugged his 
shoulders. He had orders; there was nothing to 
be done about it. 

The conductor gave orders for the train 
officials to keep guard, half of them in the train, 
the other half outside, for he knew that the War 
had developed hatred between his people and the 
Czechs and that it had also brought many robbers. 
The diner was dark but in the other cars a lamp 
burned at either end. Most of the children were 
asleep. Henry lay on the floor with his head 
under one of the benches. He used his bag for a 
pillow and curled under a rag that the teacher had 
given him. But he could not sleep. They were 
in the enemies’ land. Did the conductor expect 
an attack and could the Danish assistants defend 

59 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


the train? There were only twenty of them and 
many more Czechs might come. A door was 
opened and some one entered the car. Henry 
raised himself on his elbow in suspense and gazed 
towards the entrance. It was the conductor. It 
was not the Czechs that time, but they were sure 
to come. They were so cruel, he had heard, and 
hated the Austrians. 

Finally he fell into a troubled doze in which 
he dreamed about his mother. But she suddenly 
left him and he found himself in a large, strange 
room. Some one entered and Henry immediately 
saw that it was a Czech. He was just about to 
spring on him when he woke up. He lay quiet, 
still oppressed by the discomfort of the dream and 
hardly venturing to breathe. Then he discovered 
a bare leg and a man examining the shelves above, 
holding a bag under his arm. Henry saw that 
the window was open and considered what he 
should do. He could not let the man run off with 
the baggage and yet he dared not attack him. 
Then he heard the teacher approaching. The 
stranger bent down under the seats to get out of 
the light where he came face to face with Henry. 

“Shut your mouth, boy I” he whispered between 
his teeth, and Henry dared not disobey him, hop¬ 
ing, however, that the teacher would notice the 

6o 


AN ENEMY 


open window and would come in to close it. For 
a few seconds they stared at each other without 
moving. Then the teacher grumbled at the open 
window and entered. Henry could not keep quiet 
longer. 

“Look out!” he cried, and at the same moment 
the thief sprang up and tried to slip through the 
window. There was a brief struggle in which 
the teacher, in spite of his age, was victorious. 
He was tall and powerful, his opponent was a 
short, delicate, slender man who quickly yielded. 
The whole struggle was so quiet that it did not 
awaken all the occupants of the car. 

“Henry, come out with me, the rest of you stay 
where you are,” the teacher commanded, dragging 
his prisoner after him into the passage. “Henry, 
go and tell the conductor to come here.” 

But the prisoner begged to be released. He 
assured them that he had always been an honest 
man but that his family had had no food for two 
days and that his wife and children wept. He 
could not stand it any longer. Then he came to 
think that perhaps he could find something in 
the children’s train. 

“Can’t I run away?” he implored. “I shall be 
put in prison and my children will die of hunger. 
I was looking only for food, nothing else.” 

6i 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

He spoke German fluently but with an accent 
that showed that it was not his usual speech. The 
men stood under a lamp and the teacher scanned 
the Czech’s face keenly. Was he speaking the . 
truth or was he a professional thief? 

“What are you?” the teacher asked. 

“I am a laborer on the railroad here in Iglau.” 

“Do you think it is right to steal from children 
whose parents are perhaps as poor as you are?” 
the teacher asked, frowning. 

“I only wanted food,” the prisoner repeated. 
“I knew that the children would now get all that 
they could eat, so it would not hurt if I took a 
little. Here we are just as hungry as they are 
in Austria. I was in the army and my wife and 
children starved. They are still starving and they 
will go on starving until they die. That is the 
way with war and after war with peace for poor 
people in many lands.” 

“Have you many children?” the teacher asked, 
rubbing his hand over his forehead as if he would 
rub something away. 

“There are six. We had eight, but one died 
last winter and a little girl a month ago.” 

“Did they die of hunger?” the teacher asked. 
The words were muffled, as if he were afraid to 
speak them. 


62 


AN ENEMY 


“I don’t know,” the other answered. “They 
were hungry and cold. Perhaps they got sick 
from that. We had no doctor. Doctors and 
medicine are not for poor people.” His voice 
sounded so weary, his face was seamed and flac¬ 
cid, sure signs of hopeless poverty. 

Henry looked at the teacher. What would he 
do? Would he give up the thief or let him go? 

At last the teacher spoke. 

“You may go. I dare not judge you. Come 
back to the train at six with a basket and I will 
give you some food. Let me have your address 
and maybe I can help you a little later. But I 
don’t want any thanks, you must go right away.” 

The teacher hastened to open the door and go 
out, followed by the evening’s guest. Henry saw 
the Czech grasp the teacher’s hand and kiss it. 
Then he disappeared behind some cars and the 
teacher returned to the car. 

“Now you can go back to sleep again, Henry,” 
the teacher said. 

“I am glad you let him go,” Henry said. 

“Are you? I was afraid you were sorry he 
got off. He was a Czech.” 

Henry reflected for a moment and then said: 

“But I suppose there are good people among 
the Czechs. He looked so nice.” 

63 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“You shall see,” the teacher said, putting his 
arm around Henry’s shoulder. “The time will 
come when Austrians and Czechs will no longer 
be enemies. There are good people in both coun¬ 
tries; but the people must learn that war brings 
sorrow and misery which last long after war. 
Always remember what you said yourself: there 
are good people among the Czechs.” 

It was near dawn and Henry thought that he 
might as well stay up but the teacher ordered him 
to go to bed. When he entered the car all the 
other boys were sleeping soundly and Henry soon 
joined them. But long before six most of them 
were awake again, laughing and talking. They 
asked a thousand questions, only a small part of 
which were answered. The teacher shook his 
head and laughed at his boys. 

“Keep some of your questions until you reach 
Denmark!” he cried. “There will be more people 
there to answer.” 

“But they won’t understand us there,” the 
freckled boy said, asking more questions. He 
wanted to know if there were bears in Denmark 
and if the children went to school there as they 
did in Austria, for they didn’t go to school in Italy. 

When the train steamed out of Iglau a little 
after seven all the children had washed, the cars 

64 


AN ENEMY 


were cleaned up, and they were enjoying their 
breakfasts. Everything was in fine order and they 
were all happy. 

Henry sat down in a corner. The train rocked 
him so gently that he fell asleep. Henry did not 
realize that he had fallen asleep until he heard his 
name called and noticed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Now we are out of Czechia and in Germany, 
the Saxon Alps.” Henry sprang up. It was the 
teacher. “We shall have supper now. I sent 
another boy in your place. But look out! There 
is the Elb and the mountains beyond.” 

The train ran along the left bank just above the 
river. On the opposite shore steep mountains 
rose, threatening to push the small houses of the 
valley out into the river. On the side on which 
the train ran there was just room enough for the 
rails. The blue-gray course of the Elb with its 
numerous small steamboats and freight barges 
curved in and out, following the course of the 
mountains, and at times the curves were so sharp 
that the train had to slow down. 

“Now the sun is sinking behind the mountains,” 
the teacher said. “It will soon be dark. When 
we reach Dresden it will be bedtime but then we 
shall have passed the mountains and the Elb.” 

Henry was not interested in supper and many 

65 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

others felt the same way. They used their eyes 
more than their teeth. But when they reached 
Dresden it was pitch dark and they were quite 
ready to obey the orders to go to bed. The train 
continued on its way north. The children lay in 
clusters on benches and on the floor, sleeping 
soundly. The guards went through the train and 
shook their heads at the mad speed. But the engi¬ 
neer gave orders for extra fuel, for the train was 
very late and they had to make up for lost time. 
The furious pace was kept up all night. The 
train stopped only to change engines and that took 
only six minutes; then it glided out again into 
the darkness, the wheels hammering their quick, 
rhythmical measure. 

“Forward! Forward!” sang the many wheels. 
Through the night in dizzy haste went the train 
with its precious freight of six hundred children 
who were to gain strength to withstand a long, 
severe winter. 

When the children awoke on the following 
morning the train was in Hanover and not far 
from Hamburg. “Are we in Denmark?” “When 
do we get to Denmark?” resounded the questions 
from big and little, from boys and girls. And 
this time the answer was: “We get there to-day. 
Most of you will reach your homes this evening.” 

66 


AN ENEMY 

And when their cards were exchanged for others 
on which stood the names and homes oi their 
foster parents the leaders were again bombarded 
with questions. “What is my foster father’s 
name?” “Where is Varde?” “Where is Hol- 
stebro?” “Do I go into the country?” “I would 
rather go to a town. Can’t I come there?” “Is it 
far away to Skagen?” 

“Where am I going?” Henry asked the teacher, 
when the confusion had subsided. The teacher 
took his card and read the address. “You are 
going out to the west coast. You will not be dis¬ 
appointed. Have you ever seen the ocean?” 

Henry shook his head. He had never seen 
the ocean, but he had read about it. 

“Do you know my foster father?” he asked. 

The teacher smiled. 

“I do not. I live in Jutland but over on the 
east coast. Your foster father is a farmer. You 
will have all the milk you can drink. That is some¬ 
thing.” 

When the train crossed the border there was 
great excitement. All the windows were filled 
and a shout resounded through the train: 

“Denmark! Denmark! We are in Denmark!” 


VII 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 

C ARL did not know whether to be happy 
or not at the prospect of having a play¬ 
mate; but after Maren had talked to him 
about it, forcibly and in detail, his ideas cleared 
up. He was not happy I Maren had used strong 
colors and had conjured up a multitude of plagues, 
some from the ten plagues of the Egyptians, 
others of a different but equally terrifying nature. 
And Carl had listened. With every new plague 
that Maren presented his eyes grew larger and 
when they could not grow any larger he began 
to tremble with horror over the evil days that 
were approaching him. 

He passed the week wondering that the world 
could be so full of trouble. Maren was more con¬ 
siderate and friendly than ever but that did not 
make him any calmer. He felt like a prisoner 
doomed to death who is treated kindly because he 
has only a few more days to live. 

Saturday arrived and the boy from Vienna was 
expected. Mr. Lund wished to drive to the sta- 

68 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 


tion and Carl was to accompany him. He con¬ 
sented to go, but did not regard it as a pleasure 
trip and his eyes sought Maren’s. She understood 
him and before they drove off she took him aside 
and advised him, for the sake of cleanliness, not 
to sit too close to the strange boy. 

“Shake your coat when you come home and give 
me your cap,” she whispered, and Carl nodded 
gratefully. It was fortunate that he had Maren. 

On the way to the station Mr. Lund tried to 
encourage Carl. He had discovered Maren’s 
attempt to arouse his suspicions and realized that 
Carl did not regard the expected guest with 
friendly eyes. But all his efforts were of no avail. 
Carl remained tired and whimpering. He could 
not understand the foreign boy, could not talk 
with him or play with him. He did not like to 
sleep in the same room with him. Perhaps he 
snored and would keep him awake. If it had only 
been a girl, for girls were not so rough. 

Through all that Carl said Mr. Lund could 
recognize Maren’s voice and he began to grow 
angry. 

“Listen, my boy,” he said, looking severely at 
his son. “It is quite time for you to free yourself 
from Maren’s apron strings, if you are ever going 
to stand on your own legs. You have been sick 

69 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


but now you are well and you cannot expect to 
be treated like a baby. You are a boy and you 
must talk and act like a boy. Crying and whim¬ 
pering boys grow into weak, miserable men who 
are of no use anywhere. I hope for your sake that 
this boy will turn out to be a husky fellow who 
can tear you away from Maren.” 

Henrik Lund ceased speaking, but Carl did not 
want to hear any more. He cried from deep sym¬ 
pathy for himself and the more he cried the un- 
happier he felt. He continued to cry until they 
reached the station when he stopped, but without 
feeling any the less unhappy and aggrieved. 

Henrik Lund found the boy from Vienna and 
a card hung on his neck showed that his name was 
Henry Selmer. He looked at him and smiled with 
satisfaction at seeing a pair of shining black eyes, 
an intelligent, handsome face, a determined ex¬ 
pression about the mouth, dark hair and com¬ 
plexion. Putting his hands on his shoulders he 
bade him welcome and assured him that he would 
enjoy himself. Henry, although he did not under¬ 
stand the words, grasped the meaning, and replied 
in his own language. But Henrik Lund under¬ 
stood neither the words nor their meaning. He 
took the boy’s small parcel and led him to the 
wagon and introduced the two boys. Henry 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 

smiled and shook Carl’s hand, but Carl was very 
reserved, without a trace of a smile, wincing a 
little at the powerful grip. 

On the way home the boys sat on the back seat 
and Carl was careful to keep a safe distance be¬ 
tween them. In vain Henry tried to make himself 
understood. Carl was unapproachable. He could 
not understand him and would not try. Finally 
Henry gave up talking. 

When the wagon drove up to the house Mrs. 
Lund was standing on the steps to receive them. 
In the stable door the three farm helpers stood 
and the kitchen-maid peeped out from the scul¬ 
lery, but Maren was nowhere to be seen. She 
remained in the house, angry and dignified. 

“Here he is!” Mr. Lund cried. “Be kind to 
him. He is in a strange land. But I believe that 
he will bring good humor along with him. I think 
I can see it in his eyes.” 

Mrs. Lund took charge of her foster son and 
they immediately understood each other. She led 
him into the bedroom, poured water into the basin 
and pointed to it. He nodded and smiled and 
began a much-needed washing. When that was 
done they went into the dining room, where a meal 
was awaiting him. She pointed to a chair, then 
to the dishes, and he nodded and smiled again, 

71 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

sat down and started an attack on the food that 
was quite disconcerting to Mrs. Lund. 

While Henry was eating Carl crept out into 
the kitchen to Maren. He sat down on the peat 
box and the despairing glance he gave his friend 
showed how gloomily he viewed the future. 
Maren was busily engaged in cleaning some knives 
which were already perfectly bright. She put 
them down and approached her favorite. She 
wished to hear something about the strange boy. 

“Oh! you poor lamb!” Maren exclaimed. “Is 
he black? Is he a negro or lumat? When the 
Robert Benar went aground there was such a 
fellow on board. They said he was a lumatto or 
lamutto, or something like that. His father was 
white and his mother black, or the other way 
round, or both of them mixed. I don’t remember 
exactly how it was but there was something wrong 
so that this fellow was a malutto or mulatto. 
They said he was a cannibal and people were 
afraid of him, but he did not eat anybody here. 
He was afraid of the judge, so he ate chickens in¬ 
stead. He stole all the chickens he could lay his 
hands on and cooked them out in the fields. Ole 
Vang’s big dog was lost too and I am sure the 
mulatto ate him. It was such a handsome dog, 
spotted and with a bushy tail.” 

72 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 


When Maren had finished her terrifying story 
Carl was almost petrified with fear and he gasped 
for breath. 

“I believe he is a mulatto, Maren,” he whis¬ 
pered. “He is almost entirely black. Don’t you 
think you ought to go in and look at him? You 
saw the other one and I am not sure there are 
such people in Austria. Please go in and I will 
stay here.” 

There were few things that Maren was unwil¬ 
ling to do for Carl. Moreover, her curiosity was 
aroused. Carl remained alone in the kitchen, 
greatly agitated. To think of sleeping in a room 
with a cannibal I How could his father and 
mother think of demanding it of him? Carl 
awaited Maren’s return in suspense. He was 
afraid to stay in the kitchen alone or to get up 
and go out. He started at the slightest sound 
and cold shivers ran down his back. Finally 
Maren returned. Carl looked at her anxiously. 
What did she think? 

“I don’t know what sort of a fellow he is. He 
is dark but he does not look like the other one. 
But he may be a mulatto for all that. Perhaps 
his father is not so black or his mother not so 
white. It is not so easy to make out with those 
people down in the warm countries. I asked your 

73 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

father if the boy was just like us but he only 
laughed at me. But I am going to watch the fel¬ 
low all the same. If he steals chickens then he is 
certainly a mulatto and I will tell your father.” 

“I am afraid of him, Maren,” Carl said. 

“You needn’t be afraid,” Maren replied. “I 
shall look after you. He shan’t touch a hair of 
your head. He will get a beating. I shall attend 
to that, no matter how angry your father is.” 

Carl gave Maren a grateful glance and crept 
back to the dining room. It would soon be bed¬ 
time and he must sleep in the same room with the 
strange boy. Mrs. Lund followed the boys into 
the guest room, into which Carl’s bed had been 
moved. In the middle of the floor stood a tin 
tub with warm water and Mrs. Lund by the help 
of signs made Henry understand that he was to 
bathe before going to bed. Then she lighted a 
candle, drew down the shades and said good-night. 

Henry made another attempt to make friends 
with Carl but without success. Carl hurriedly 
undressed, crawled into bed and drew the blanket 
up so that only the top of his head was visible. 
Henry shook his head. He could not make out 
the other boy’s behavior. Then he began to un¬ 
dress slowly, for although the room was small 
there were many things in it to examine. All his 

74 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 

tiredness was gone; he was in the promised land. 
He breathed a fresh, cool air hitherto unknown 
to him. He had had plenty of good food to eat and 
his foster parents looked kind. They had stroked 
his hair and patted him on his cheek. They had 
spoken a good deal to him, too, but he could not 
understand them though they were certainly good 
and kind words. 

Henry thought of his mother in the little room 
at home. If she were only with him and could 
get such food as he had eaten that evening. As 
he thought of his tired little mother his eyes filled 
with tears. Why should they have so much food 
here when there was none in Vienna? Ugly 
black bread, turnips, and once in a while potatoes, 
some days nothing. They could sometimes- get 
meat but it cost many hundreds of crowns and 
his mother said they could not afford it. Now 
he would get plenty to eat but his mother would 
have nothing and she would grow still thinner and 
more tired. Henry sat down and began to cry. 
He felt that he had gone back on his mother— 
failed her. She had shared more than evenly 
with him; now he would be satisfied every day and 
she would be hungry. He controlled his weeping 
as well as he could. The boy over there should 
not see him cry but he could not stop. 

75 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

Carl lay in bed and wondered at its having 
grown so quiet. He wondered if the strange boy 
had gone to bed. He cautiously stuck his head 
out from under the covers. No, he was sitting 
on his bed and seemed to be crying. Carl raised 
himself and saw that the boy was crying with his 
face hidden in his hands. Then Carl forgot every¬ 
thing that Maren had told him. He threw aside 
the blanket and in a moment was by Henry’s side 
with his arm around the other’s shoulder. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked. “Are you 
afraid? There is nothing to be afraid of.” 

He hugged his young companion and suddenly 
felt as if he were the stronger. But Henry cried 
still harder although Carl’s friendliness comforted 
him. And Carl continued to speak to him. Henry 
could not understand what he said but every word 
brought them closer together. 

Suddenly the door opened and in the doorway 
stood Maren with a candle in her hand. 

“You poor lamb!” she exclaimed, almost drop¬ 
ping the candle, “do you stand here on the bare 
floor in your nightgown and embrace the mulatto? 
Go right to bed. Don’t go near the fellow. He 
is no fit company for you.” 

Carl started up at Maren’s appearance. Henry 

76 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 


regarded the strange woman and Immediately felt 
that she was not friendly to him. 

“He was crying,” Carl said, realizing that he 
must give an explanation. 

But Maren was not in the humor to accept ex¬ 
cuses. She cast a contemptuous glance at Carl 
and twisted her mouth. 

“Let him cry, Carl. He might have stayed at 
home. What business has he here? Go to bed, 
Carl, you will catch cold, and remember not to go 
near him. He looks so black; that doesn’t mean 
any good, believe me.” 

Maren took Carl by the hand and led him to 
his bed without resistance, tucking him in. But 
Henry sat, uncertain and depressed. He did not 
know who the tall old woman was but he felt that 
she did not like him; he could see that In her face. 
Then Maren came over to him, put the candle on 
the floor and began to examine his hair. The 
blood mounted to his cheeks. He understood 
what she was about and felt insulted. He could 
not stand that. He seized her hands, pushed 
them away and protested with a torrent of words, 
explaining that he was clean and that she had 
nothing to do with him, only his foster mother was 
to look after him. 


77 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Maren did not understand him but his expres¬ 
sion enraged her and she exclaimed: 

“You beggarly little mulatto, are you fresh? 
Now you can see, Carl, what sort of fellow he is. 
Come here and let me look you over.” 

But Henry did not stir from his place, partly 
because he had no idea of what she was saying. 

“Won’t you come when I tell you to! You pre¬ 
tend that you don’t understand me. Well, I will 
teach you to understand.” 

Henry crouched in defense, looking as if he 
were ready to spring at her. But then Maren 
suddenly was afraid and stepped back. The result 
of her retreat was fatal. She came too close to 
the tub, lost her balance and sat down with a 
shriek and a splash in the water intended for 
Henry. She tossed her hands about and cried 
and scolded while Henry laughed and Carl sat 
up in bed and cried. 

While the confusion was at its height and before 
Maren could get out of the tub, Mr. and Mrs. 
Lund appeared on the scene. They had heard 
Maren scolding and had got up to see what was 
the matter. Their appearance had a soothing 
effect. Carl stopped crying, Henry felt secure and 
Maren got on her feet. She was silent. She was 
ashamed to have her master and mistress witness 

78 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 

her blunder. But Mr. Lund could not help teas¬ 
ing her. 

“Why, Maren,” he said, “that water was in¬ 
tended for the strange boy and you go and bathe 
in it! Now it will really be your fault if he goes 
to bed without a bath for there is no more hot 
water.’* 

Mr. Lund looked quite serious but Maren re¬ 
alized that he meant more than he said. 

“I shall go away to-morrow,” she said curtly. 
That was her favorite expression when anything 
went wrong. 

“You won’t really?” Mr. Lund answered, look¬ 
ing very distressed. “Why will you leave?” 

“He will be the death of me, that boy,” Maren 
said, nodding toward Henry. 

“If he is going to drown you, Maren, he must 
get a much larger tub and he will have to dip you 
in quite a different style. But I think you had 
better go to your room and you can give notice 
to-morrow before noon.” 

Maren looked sullen but she realized that she 
had suffered a defeat and decided to beat a retreat 
in the best possible order. Casting a glance at 
Henry that showed him that her turn would come 
yet, she walked proudly out of the room—a mar¬ 
tyr in a good cause. 


79 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


After she had gone Henry tried to explain by 
signs how she had fallen into the tub. He did 
not wish to be suspected of being responsible. 
Carl followed the account in suspense. 

“I think that he pushed her in,” he said, on the 

« 

conclusion of Henry’s dumb show. Maren’s acci¬ 
dent had affected him so deeply that his only 
thought was how to get rid of his new companion. 

“I don’t believe so,” Mr. Lund said. “But 
even if he did there is nothing to be said about it. 
Maren had no business in here and she deserved 
a dipping. I hope it will do her good. Good¬ 
night!” 

With these words they left. Mrs. Lund had 
been a silent witness and listener. She did not 
know what to believe. If Henry had pushed 
Maren into the tub it was unfortunate and he 
could cause them much trouble. But it was hard 
for her to believe him guilty. 

The boys were again alone together. Carl as¬ 
sumed his former position under the bedclothes, 
certain that he and the strange boy would never 
be friends. To insult Maren seemed to him little 
short of sacrilege and he was more than ever con¬ 
vinced that Maren was right in her prophecies. 
Henry began again to undress and he was not half 
as happy over the promised land as he had ex- 

80 


THE BOY FROM VIENNA 


pected to be. The boy in the bed was unfriendly 
to him and the queer woman who appeared so 
suddenly was still more so. He missed his mother, 
too, and that was the worst of all. But he soon 
fell asleep, too worn out from the journey to keep 
his eyes open longer. 

It was a long and terrifying night for Carl. He 
lay for a time perspiring and frightened by every 
sound. And when he finally fell asleep he wan¬ 
dered about in a world inhabited by all kinds of 
monsters which tried to kill him. He ran away, 
he fled by sea and he flew through the air; but 
every time he was about to escape from the hor¬ 
rible creatures he was stopped, and it was always 
the boy from Vienna that stopped him. He was 
a monster with long crooked arms, a big shaggy 
head, and enormous teeth that protruded from 
his mouth and a nose like an elephant’s trunk. 
He was a cannibal. 

Carl was captured, cooked, and eaten but was 
restored to life for a new pursuit and devouring. 
He endured all sorts of torments and there was no 
Maren to help him. At last towards dawn he 
was released after having been eaten five times. 


VIII 

THE SHORE GANG 

W HEN Henry woke up the following 
morning his fairyland was bathed in 
sunlight and he went out and took pos¬ 
session of it. He walked around the stables and 
barn, across the meadows where green grain and 
golden flowers flashed their colors in his eyes, and 
down to the sea the color of which was a deeper 
hue than that of the sky and where the sand was 
so dazzlingly white that he blinked. 

All his senses responded and he thought that 
this fairyland was far more wonderful than ha; 
had anticipated. Every day he went through tha 
farm buildings, made friends with the calves and 
the small colts as well as with the mother cats and 
their bundles of kittens. Every day he ran over 
the meadows to see the farm hands and to get a 
ride, and there was no day, however stormy, that 
he did not go down to the beach. The ocean was 
the greatest and most wonderful thing in this 
fairyland, always alive even when it was calm, 

82 


THE SHORE GANG 


never the same color, but playing in gray, green, 
and blue and all the intermediate colors. 

And his fairyland was inhabited by good people 
whom he came to love. First, there was Mrs. 
Lund, whose eyes were as mild and kind as his 
mother’s and whose voice was soft and beautiful, 
and then his foster father whose eyes were always 
laughing and whose voice often sounded like a 
storm in the mountains. He took Henry on long 
drives and was careful to show him everything 
new and interesting. 

Later he made other friends. The foreman 
Peter always went with his mouth full of tobacco 
which dripped down on his broad chin. And 
there was the scullery maid who shared with him 
the small pieces of candy which her mother gave 
her. One of the most important acquaintances 
was Mads Dyre, one of the oldest fishermen, and 
the merchant who chatted with him although at 
first they had a hard time understanding each 
other, and the coast guard and old Maren at the 
tollhouse. She would fry doughnuts for him in 
her little hut. There were many kind people in 
Henry’s fairyland and he enjoyed meeting them, 
but the witch was not absent and he tried to avoid 
her as much as possible. But that was not so easy 
for she lived in the house. From the first day 

83 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Maren was the witch in Henry’s fairyland and the 
following days brought no change. Henry saw 
hatred in her eyes and heard it behind her words 
which he did not understand. And when he saw 
how careful she was of Carl and how mild her 
face grew when she spoke to him he knew that she 
was to blame for Carl’s suspicion of him. This 
was Henry’s great grief and disappointment, that 
Carl avoided him as much as he could. They were 
never together in the fields or at the beach. If 
Henry wished to go to the beach Carl preferred 
to stay home, and if Henry wished to stay home 
Carl went out, but alone. Carl was reserved and 
sullen and Henry did not know the reason for it 
except that Maren was behind it all. 

Finally, Henry found friends on the beach and 
he learned Danish from them. It did not take 
him long to learn for he was both willing and in¬ 
dustrious. Four of his new friends were his own 
countrymen. Robert and Joseph who were both 
twelve years old lived at the manse. It was their 
second visit to Denmark and they spoke the lan¬ 
guage like natives. When Henry sought for a 
Danish word or came to grief trying to make one 
up, they helped him and were tireless in teaching 
him. Erich was thirteen and lived at the mer¬ 
chant’s. Although he had never been in Denmark 

84 


THE SHORE GANG 


before he felt perfectly at home and never tired of 
praising the Danish butter and wondering at the 
abundance of sugar, of which he always had a 
pocketful. Ferdinand lived with a fisherman and 
had been in Denmark before. He had mastered 
the language, but as he spoke the Jutish dialect it 
was often difficult for his companions to under¬ 
stand him. 

Hans and Knud, the clergyman’s sons, also be¬ 
longed to the gang. Hans was fourteen and full 
of life. He was said to wear out a suit of clothes 
in two weeks. Knud who was twelve tried to fol¬ 
low his brother through thick and thin, whTich was 
not easy for him for he was fat and his legs were 
shorter than his brother’s. Christian, the mer¬ 
chant’s son, was the youngest. He was only 
eleven, but he had pluck enough for two, having 
been born and brought up by the seashore so that 
the freshness of the ocean and the strength of the 
northwest wind had entered his blood and given 
him unusual daring. The last member was Happy 
William. In keeping with his nickname he knew 
how to retain his good humor under all condi¬ 
tions and had a standing motto, “It will be all 
right.” He was thirteen and his father was a 
well-to-do fisherman, and as William was the only 
child, he stayed at home. 

85 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

Henry became the ninth member of the gang. 
His countrymen introduced him and he was grate¬ 
ful to them because it was tedious always to be 
alone. But when Maren heard that he had joined 
the “crowd,” as she called it, she nodded content¬ 
edly and said: 

“That’s where the mulatto belongs. Now Hen¬ 
rik Lund will soon have something to please 
him.” 

Henry joined the gang in troubled times. The 
winter before there had been war between the boys 
who were being prepared for confirmation and it 
had been continued through the spring until it 
had included almost all the boys from both par¬ 
ishes. Wherever they met there was a fight. The 
old parish had the largest number of boys but the 
newer one to the north could boast of some regu¬ 
lar berserkers. 

The first expedition in which Henry engaged 
was a piratical raid against the “dwarfs” to catch 
a bull. The leader of the dwarfs had sent word 
that if the “stumpies” appeared again he would 
let loose his father’s bull, so they could practice 
bull-fighting. The shore gang, the picked troops in 
the army of the stumpies, had replied that they 
would not be kept away if there were twenty bulls. 
But Peter Mortensen, the owner of the bull, when 

86 


THE SHORE GANG 

he heard the answer, had smiled slyly and said to 
his son: 

“Tell them they may keep it if they can catch 
it.” 

That was an offer that the gang could not re¬ 
fuse. The worst of it was that none of them were 
used to handling cattle but they would try any¬ 
how. There was another difficulty, namely, that 
the bull must be taken out of the barn, and he was 
a cross fellow that was not accustomed to keep 
quiet when strangers came into his stall. 

The day was chosen with special care. About 
a month after the challenge had been issued there 
was a wedding in the new parish and the boys knew 
that Peter Mortensen and his whole family would 
attend the festivities. The gang arranged to meet 
on the beach at nine o’clock. Henry was on hand 
punctually and he had a good conscience for Mr. 
Lund had given him permission to go. He had 
asked what they were going to do and Henry had 
explained as well as he could without making his 
foster father any the wiser. 

“Is everything ready?” Hans asked when they 
were all gathered together. “How many pieces 
of rope have we?” 

“Seven!” Christian answered. “Four for his 
legs, two for his horns and one for his nose-ring.” 

87 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

“Are they strong?” Hans asked. 

“They are quite new,” was the answer. 

“Have we the bag to put over his head?” 

“I have the bag here,” Erich said. 

“Are there cords to tie it with and a hole for 
the ring?” 

“Yes,” said Erich, who had made the bag. 

“It will be all right! It will be all right!” 
Happy William said, laughing and fairly dancing 
in his excitement. 

Hans continued with his directions. 

“When we come into the stall I will let him lick 
salt from my hand. We must fill the bag with 
fresh clover and perhaps add a little salt. When 
it is over his head you must be ready with the 
ropes. There must be a noose on each rope. 
When the ropes are all in position we will let the 
bull loose and go out through the west gate. At 
least two men must be on guard and they must not 
be taken by surprise.” 

“Isn’t there anybody at home?” Knud asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Hans replied. “They are 
invited for eight o’clock and Niels, the foreman, 
thought that they would milk before they 
went.” 

“What shall we do with the bull when we get 
hirn?” Erich asked. 


88 


THE SHORE GANG 


“The farmer at the manse said that we might 
put him in the stall there,” Hans answered. “He 
can stay there until Peter Mortensen comes to 
get him.” 

“Are we going to let him have him? We can 
keep him if we can get him.” 

“No, we will not keep him,” Hans said. “But 
if we can catch him we will ask money for him, 
say twenty crowns.” 

“That is not enough,” Knud said. “We ought 
to get at least thirty.” 

“Well, let us say thirty,” Hans said. “But let 
us first get hold of him.” 

‘That will be all right,” William said. “I be- 
lieve we could take Peter Mortensen too. He is 
not very clever.” 

Hans gave the command to advance. They 
went along the beach. The sun was about to sink 
in the ocean and darkness was approaching. The 
downs stood like a dark wall towards the east and 
the shore was edged by white foam from the surf. 
From the ocean could be heard the drumming of 
two motor boats. Over the land flew the lap¬ 
wings, their harsh cries drowning the other birds’ 
voices and making themselves heard even above 
the barking of the watchdogs. 

89 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

Henry and Erich walked together whispering. 

“Why is your foster brother never with you?” 
Erich asked. 

“He has been sick and is not very strong.” 

“He must be a sissy.” 

“No, he isn’t, but he is very quiet.” 

“I don’t like him. I have met him a few times 
and he did not say a word.” 

“I like him,” Henry said. “He can’t help being 
sick. If you had been sick as long as he has you 
might be just as quiet.” 

There was a little pause. Then Erich said: 

“How is your foster father? Will he punish 
you?” 

“He has never punished me yet,” Henry re¬ 
plied, laughing, “and I don’t believe he ever will. 
I don’t believe he can get mad. I have never seen 
him.” 

Hans commanded them to halt. 

“We must have a spy to go up and see if every¬ 
thing is quiet. You had better go, Christian. 
They know you.” 

While they were waiting for Christian’s return 
they made plans for the attack. Knud and Henry 
were to stand guard at the two gates. Christian 
was to tie the ropes on the horns, and Robert, 
Joseph, Erich and Ferdinand were to take care of 

90 


THE SHORE GANG 

the bull’s legs and Happy William was to help 
Hans put the bag over his head and tie the rope 
in his nose ring. 

They waited and waited, but no Christian ap¬ 
peared. Hans went up the road to look for him, 
but without success. 

“I am afraid he has been caught,” Hans said. 
“We must send another man, or better two, so 
that at least one can report.” 

Happy William and Knud were chosen and with 
a final warning to be cautious they disappeared. 
Quarter of an hour, half an hour passed, but no 
one returned. 

“Are they crazy?” Hans asked. “Why don’t 
they come?” 

“They must have been caught,” Erich said. 
“We must help them.” 

Hans was in despair and did not know what 
to do. Finally, he gave orders for a general ad¬ 
vance. When they reached the west gate a shout 
resounded and all the people on the farm rushed 
out. In a moment the remainder of the gang was 
surrounded and had to surrender without resis¬ 
tance. 

“You have come to bargain for a bull, have 
you?” Peter Mortensen said, laughing. “There 
were three other bargainers here, but they went 

91 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


over to the wedding and Christian Brask says that 
you will be welcome too.” 

“You are very kind,” Hans forced himself to 
reply, “but we would rather go home.” 

“No you don’t, Hans,” Peter Mortensen re¬ 
plied, half stifled with laughter. “The other fel¬ 
lows are waiting for you. The business will go 
better with a cup of coffee and a cake. And your 
father is waiting for you too. He had great fun 
greeting the others.” 

They were received at the wedding with shouts 
of laughter and ironical questions: 

“Did you buy the bull?” “How much did you 
offer for it?” “Did you buy by weight?” 

Hans was scarlet with anger but Henry could 
not grasp the situation. He had been surprised 
that the owner of the bull should take it all as a 
joke and now he saw the clergyman sitting in a 
corner and apparently more amused than anybody 
else. 

The owner of the farm, Christian Brask, came 
over and greeted his new guests, shaking every one 
by the hand and saying that he was glad to see 
them. 

“I wish you would come in and drink a cup of 
coffee,” he said and the clergyman added: “Yes, 

92 


THE SHORE GANG 

please do. You are out late and the night air is 
damp.” 

“Thank you, we don’t need anything,” Hans 
stammered. 

“Of course you will,” Niels Brask replied. “To 
be sure there is no bargain to be bound but you 
must not be disappointed because you failed to get 
what you wanted. Come and drink your coffee; 
perhaps you can agree with the owner after all.” 

The food was excellent—chocolate, coffee, 
cakes and tarts—and there was as much as any 
one wanted. At first the host encouraged them to 
eat and many others looked after the recently 
arrived guests, but after a while they attracted 
less attention. The men began to talk about the 
prices of horses and cows and the prospect of ex¬ 
porting their farm products, and the women gos¬ 
siped about hats and dresses and about what this 
one and that one had said and done and why 
Maren Knudsen’s maid had left so suddenly. 

This gave the members of the gang a chance 
to talk together and Hans learned the cause of 
their defeat. Christian had run right into the 
arms of two farm laborers who had just come 
back. One of them had brought him over to the 
other farm and had given the alarm there and 

93 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

when Happy William and Knud came the whole 
crowd was there to receive them. 

Suddenly Hans arose and followed by the others 
went in and thanked their host for their entertain¬ 
ment and asked if they might have leave to go 
now. 

“Certainly, but I believe that Peter Mortensen 
would rather go along with you a piece, so that 
you don’t stray out of your way and go back to 
his farm,” Christian replied with marked serious¬ 
ness. 

But Hans turned to him and said: 

“May I not borrow the wagon to drive home? 
I will come back with it right away.” 

The clergyman looked at his son. He thought 
it was a queer idea, but decided finally that per¬ 
haps it was a sort of vindication, that it would 
enable them to make a more dignified departure. 
Hans was used to driving and his father gave a 
reluctant consent, adding: 

“See that you leave right away. It is late and 
your mother and I must soon go home.” 

Hans hurried out to harness the horse and the 
other members of the gang waited, wondering 
what plan he had formed. Why couldn’t they just 
as well walk home? The wagon stood ready and 
the unsuccessful bull baiters took their places 

94 


THE SHORE GANG 

under the eyes of all the wedding guests who 
bombarded them with humorous questions. 

The wagon drove away and after Peter Mor- 
tensen had assured himself that they were going 
in the right direction he turned to the clergyman 
and said: 

“They are bright fellows but they did not get 
the bull.’^ 

“Yes, they are fine fellows but they fight too 
much with the boys up here.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Peter Mor- 
tensen said. “It is mostly for fun. They are 
good friends at heart. They only want to try each 
other out.” 

“Are you sure the boys will not fool you?” the 
clergyman asked. He hardly knew himself why he 
asked. 

“They can’t come to the farm the way they 
drove,” Peter Mortensen replied. “They might 
turn and drive back.” 

The wagon was not brought back by Hans but 
by Happy William, who entered the room, his 
face more beaming than ever. 

“Hans wished me to thank his father for letting 
him have the wagon and to say to Peter Morten¬ 
sen that he can buy a bull at the manse if he is 
without one and has the money to pay for it.” 

95 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


After Happy William had delivered his mes¬ 
sage he disappeared quickly, leaving the wedding 
guests in an uproar. 

“It is impossible,” Peter Mortensen said at 
first. “They drove home; they did not turn back.” 
Then he exclaimed: “They fooled me with the 
wagon. They stopped in the valley and took a 
short cut.” 

Peter Mortensen ran home followed by many 
others who wished to see if the boys had the last 
laugh. And they certainly had, for the bull was 
gone. 

But in the cow stall at the manse an hour after 
midnight eight boys stood and looked at a bull. 

“He followed very quietly,” Christian said. 

“Yes, after he got the bag over his head,” Hans 
answered. 

“Shall we let him have him for thirty crowns?” 
Hans asked. 

“No, let’s raise it to fifty in return for the 
wedding entertainment.” 


IX 


FISHING 


M r. and MRS. LUND sat in the office 
a few days after the capture of the bull. 
Henry was at the beach and Carl was 
out in the kitchen with Maren. Mr. Lund had 
been working over his accounts, but when his wife 
came in he put down his pen for a chat, first about 
business and then about Maren, who grew more 
and more impossible. 

“Can’t we let her go?” he asked. “She will 
be the ruin of Carl and will turn him into a depen¬ 
dent little creature with no will to stand up for 
himself. And then her hatred of Henry! If she 
could she would drive him away. Everything must 
turn about Carl. She would rather not have us 
talk to or about anybody else and all praise and 
recognition, in her opinion, should be kept for 
him. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry over 
it. Yesterday while she was cleaning the stove 
in here I told you that Henry was a bright boy 
and that it was a pleasure to have him about. I 

97 




HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

happened to glance towards her and it was evident 
that my words had not pleased her. After you 
had gone out she asked me if I had heard the story 
about Peter Mortensen’s bull and Henry’s con¬ 
nection with it. She said it quietly, as if it had no 
significance. That is the way she talks about 
Henry when she is not angry. I merely said yes. 
A moment later she said in the same quiet way 
that that evening Carl had helped her wash and 
hang up the clothes. He was a good boy. But 
I could not contain myself and said that I would 
rather have had Carl help catch the bull than do 
women’s work. That was too much for Maren. 
She boiled over and told me that I cared more for 
the ‘mulatto’ than for my own boy. He was al¬ 
lowed to do everything while Carl could not do 
anything. You too spoiled Henry but not as badly 
as I did. We were unnatural parents. I sent her 
out of the room. She was quite unmanageable.” 

Mr. Lund was silent but he smiled when he saw 
his wife’s troubled face. 

“We cannot send her away, Henrik. She has 
been with us so long and she means well. I can 
see that she worships Carl and that it does him 
harm. But don’t you think he will get over it 
when he grows older?” 

“Let us hope so,” Mr. Lund said. “I had hoped 

98 


FISHING 


that Henry could draw him away from Maren’s 
skirts but it does not seem to work that way. 
Maren has too much influence over him and she 
will not give him up willingly. I will not force 
Carl to go with Henry. That wouldn’t do any 
good. But I should like to see them good friends 
and companions. It would help Carl.” 

“Would you have been pleased to have had 
Carl along to catch Peter Mortensen’s bull?” 

“Yes, why not? Peter Mortensen had chal¬ 
lenged them to do it. And it was well done. I 
should be delighted if the day should ever come 
when Carl took part in such an expedition.” 

“What do you think about Henry’s having 
formed a friendship with Mads Dyre? He is 
often with him in his home and at the beach.” 

“I would say that he need not be ashamed of 
such a friendship. Mads Dyre has a hard life. 
He was certainly sentenced innocently although he 
had to bear the shame and the punishment. Now 
he is a lonely man, lonelier than ever. If Henry’s 
company can give him any pleasure so much the 
better.” 

“Carl is afraid of Mads Dyre,” Mrs. Lund 
said. 

“He has no reason to be afraid. If you consider 
him profoundly, not superficially, and if you are 

99 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

honest you must admit that he is a good man, bet¬ 
ter than many others. But people find it hard to 
forget.” 

“I wish that Henry’s mother could come here,” 
Mrs. Lund said, after a pause. “Whenever he 
receives a letter from her he grows so quiet. Yes¬ 
terday he was crying. His mother has very little 
to live on. It must be hard for her.” 

“Yes, the War has caused much ruin. You can 
see that they used to be well off. If we could get 
her here it would be a small matter to find room 
and good food for her. But it is not easy to ar¬ 
range.” 

“Can’t we keep Henry a little longer?” 

“I should be glad if it can be managed.” Mr. 
Lund got up and paced up and down the room. 
“But one thing is certain, if Maren is not kind 
to him I will throw her out. She shall not decide 
who is to be in this house. And I won’t stand for 
her quiet, innocent little remarks. You had better 
tell her.” 

“Does that matter?” Mrs. Lund asked. “None 
of us are so stupid as not to understand what she 
means, so there is no danger of her accomplishing 
anything by it. I think more highly of Henry 
every day and you can form your own opinion in 
spite of Maren’s derogatory remarks.” 


100 


FISHING 


“All the same you must tell her that she must 
be careful not to say anything against Henry to 
Carl,” Mr. Lund said, as he returned to his ac¬ 
counts. 

Mads Dyre lived in a little cottage in the lee 
of the cliffs. He was about seventy years old but 
had not given up fishing. It was said that he could 
work harder than most younger men and that he 
could go without sleep for several days in the 
fishing season. 

Mads Dyre’s life story contained many dark 
chapters. He was born on the largest farm in 
the parish, an only child. For a time he had 
owned the farm himself; now he was a fisherman 
living in the most tumble-down hut in the parish. 
That was his road in life, always down, never 
upward. He had from his childhood loved the 
sea and had been attracted to it so strongly that 
when he was only fifteen he had begun to be a 
fisherman. His father was opposed to this, but it 
was Mads’ only wish and was finally granted. 

Those were wild days among the fishermen. 
When they started out they drank brandy, they 
drank at sea and drank when they returned. The 
peasants who drove down to the beach for codfish 
made payment in brandy. They could get a whole 
load for a jug of brandy. And when the fisher- 

lOI 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

men went out twice a year to collect their bills 
they drank so much brandy that they often had 
to sleep off their debauches in a ditch. 

Mads Dyre was young and easily influenced 
when he started as a fisherman and after a short 
time he drank like his companions. After his 
parents’ death he went on the farm but he could 
not exist without the sea. He kept up his fishing 
and drinking and neglected his farm so that every 
year it showed a deficit. But he did not realize 
it for he did not keep any accounts. Then he mar¬ 
ried a fisherman’s daughter and for a time gave 
up brandy and was happy in his home. 

But there was still every year a deficit. Al¬ 
though he no longer used his money for brandy, he 
gave and lent money to everybody that asked him 
for it, and his young wife did the same. She had 
come from a poor home and had been obliged to 
beg. Now she could give and she gave with both 
hands. But the farm was neglected. The re¬ 
ceipts decreased and the expenses remained the 
same. 

Finally they were forced to sell the farm and 
move into a small cottage. Those were hard times 
for Mads Dyre but he endured them without 
relapsing into his old habit of drinking. For he 
had his good young wife and a lovely boy whom 


102 


FISHING 


he worshiped. He was still faithful to the sea 
and when he was not fishing he cultivated his little 
plot of land and for the first time in many years 
he was able to balance his accounts. He could 
still help others with small amounts but now he 
thought of the future of his family. The cottage 
became his palace of pleasure<and when he looked 
at the farm that had once been his he was no 
longer troubled with the thought that those days 
of prosperity were past. He was a fisherman as 
he had always wanted to be and he had his wife 
and boy. 

But his palace of pleasure fell in ruins. First 
death carried off his happy young wife and the 
year afterward his boy. He was left alone. Then 
he began to drink again. He attended to his fish¬ 
ing but the crops were neglected and he sold his 
cattle. He was a fisherman and he sought forget¬ 
fulness in brandy. This wild life lasted almost 
ten years, when he married a young fisherman’s 
daughter from the neighborhood. He gave up 
drinking and resumed his farming. He felt that 
the old days had returned. He became the best 
fisherman along the shore and no one had better 
crops than he. He was elected president of the 
fisherman’s association and a member of the parish 
council. He was highly respected as a substantial 

103 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


citizen. When another son was born he forgot 
the ten dark, wild years. 

Eight years had passed when death appeared 
again and took first his wife and soon after the 
boy. They died at the same season and from 
the same sicknesses as his first wife and boy. At 
first he was utterly prostrated. But he soon 
sought consolation in brandy and grew wilder 
than ever. He drank with everybody, no company 
was too mean for him. But in his worst excesses 
he was never ill tempered and he was always ready 
to help anybody in need. 

One night a farmhouse burned down. The day 
before two scissors grinders had passed through 
the parish and Mads had been with them. All 
three of them were examined by the magistrate 
but the scissors grinders had cleared themselves 
at Mads Dyre’s expense. He was found guilty of 
arson and was sentenced to the penitentiary while 
the other two were released. Many persons 
thought that the sentence should have been re¬ 
versed. 

When Mads Dyre came out of the penitentiary 
he moved into the little hut back of the cliffs, a 
gray-haired man. He did not touch brandy but 
people said that he was queer. He talked to him¬ 
self or to imaginary persons and he could not 

104 


FISHING 


realize that his son was dead. In company he 
seldom spoke a word. He fished alone in his 
little boat. With his basket on his shoulders he 
went from house to house, selling his fish. But if 
any one invited him to stop for a cup of coffee he 
always replied: 

“I must hurry. There is some one waiting for 
me at home.” 

Mads Dyre sat in his little room, mending his 
net. By the window lay a big white cat in the sun, 
and a very independent hen with six small chickens 
walked about the floor, very much at home. The 
hen got tangled in the net and began to cackle. 

“Now, you little strutter, what are you doing 
there?” Mads mumbled, carefully disentangling 
the hen from the net. “Nobody asked you. But 
you put your nose into everything. Take care 
that the fox doesn’t catch you some fine day. But 
you needn’t be afraid in here,” Mads said, as the 
hen gathered her chickens under her. “The fox 
won’t come in here. But you must be careful out 
of doors. Do you understand ?” 

The old white-bearded giant sat for a while at 
his work, then he went over to the window to the 
cat. 

“Well, Pussy, is there no one?” The cat began 
to purr and moved her head caressingly across his 

105 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

hand. Mads looked out over the path and then 
began to pet the cat. “Don’t you think he will 
come, Pussy? He hasn’t been here for two days. 
He is such a fine little fellow. He reminds me of 
some one I used to know, only he is darker. But 
his spirit is the same. When one grows old one is 
so often alone, even among people. If the foreign 
little boy would only come, he is such good com¬ 
pany.” 

Half an hour passed and both Mads and the 
cat fell asleep. Suddenly the cat roused herself, 
looked out, began to mew and sprang down. 
“What is the matter?” old Mads asked, sitting up. 
A little confused he looked at the cat, which had 
run out into the entry. But he heard steps outside 
and his guest entered with smiling eyes. 

“Good day, Henry!” the old man said. “I am 
glad to see you. Didn’t Carl want to come with 
you to-day?” 

Henry shook his head, sat down on the bench 
and was soon joined by the cat. Old Mads Dyre’s 
face brightened. He moved his chair nearer to 
the table, taking his net with him but dividing his 
attention between it and his guest. 

“Won’t you tell me a story?” Henry asked. 
“About shipwrecks?” 

Mads Dyre was quite ready to respond and he 

io6 


FISHING 

told a number of stories of ships that had gone 
ashore and so interested were they both that al¬ 
most the whole afternoon passed before either 
realized it. 

“I must be off,” Mads said, getting up. “I 
have to lay some sole nets, there are so many soles 
this season and they stay later than usual. Do 
you want to go along? It is a fine day.” 

“I’d love to,” Henry said. “But I must ask 
leave to go.” 

Mads Dyre nodded. 

“Hurry up. I will go down to the beach and 
get everything ready. At the same time ask if 
you may go out with me to-morrow morning after 
the nets. You can sleep here, for we start at 
three.” 

Henry ran off and was lucky enough to find Mr. 
Lund right away. But it was hard to get permis¬ 
sion. Mr. Lund did not like the idea of Henry’s 
spending the night at the hut. Finally he got 
leave on condition that he should hurry home as 
soon as they got back. 

He dashed down to the beach and when he got 
there Mads Dyre had hauled his boat down to 
the water. 

“We can start right off,” Mads Dyre said, put¬ 
ting the cat, his constant companion, into the boat 

107 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


which he shoved out. “Now we’ll set out to sea,” 
he laughed, seizing the oars. Henry, who sat in 
the stern, had a strange feeling. It was the first 
time he had been in a boat. He looked down into 
the green cool water, he looked out to the west 
where sea and sky approached each other, and 
then back towards the coast where the cliffs grew 
smaller and smaller and the houses seemed like 
doll houses. For a moment he was afraid, but 
then he glanced at Mads Dyre who sat there so 
quietly and rowed so steadily and he felt relieved. 
There were no waves and the sea was almost as 
still as a mirror. 

“Shall we far go?” Henry asked. 

“Are you afraid?” 

“No, I’m not afraid I” Henry answered and 
his happy face showed that he was telling the 
truth. 

“We’ll go out three miles,” Mads said. “There 
were many soles last night. I had seventy in ten 
nets. We will row out all the way and start to 
set the nets from there.” 

Pussy came over to Henry, purring and licking 
her chops. 

“She thinks we are going out to bring in the 
catch,” Mads laughed, “and she expects some fish¬ 
bones. But she can’t make out when we set the 

io8 


FISHING 

nets and when we bring them in. She will be dis¬ 
appointed to-day.” 

When they reached the place Mads Dyre threw 
out a buoy with a little pennant and explained to 
Henry that there must be a buoy where they began 
and where they stopped to show where the nets 
were. Then he began to put out the nets. It was 
a two-man job, but he did it alone. It was an 
hour before everything was clear and the sun was 
about to set. 

“We must have a snack before we go to bed. 
We must get up at three. Do you think you can 
do it?” Mads looked at Henry and the latter 
nodded. 

When they got home Mads made tea and Henry 
thought that it tasted fine. They had rusks with 
plenty of butter and Pussy had a piece of fish and 
some milk. 

“Have you had enough to eat?” Mads asked, 
as Henry sat back in his chair with the cat on his 
lap. 

“Yes, thank you,” Henry said and the cat 
mewed. 

“Then let’s turn in,” Mads said, pointing to 
the only bed. He would lie on the bench. Henry 
soon fell asleep. At half past two sharp Mads 
touched Henry’s arm, saying: 

109 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Time to get up.” 

Henry hurried, for he was anxious to get out 
and see how large the catch was. 

“We’ll have a west wind,” Mads said, “and 
that will be the end of the soles for this season. 
It is too bad, there were so many.” 

“Do you think we will many fish catch?” Henry 
asked, in his broken speech. 

“I think so,” Mads answered, “but we’ll soon 
see.” 

The boat was off again with its crew, a man, a 
boy, and a cat. It was the first boat out and it 
had a good start before the next one was shoved 
off. 

“We’ll begin with the net farthest out and row 
towards the shore,” Mads said and Henry 
nodded. But they could not find either the first 
or the last net. Nets and buoys had disappeared. 
“We set them here,” Mads said, “but there are 
no nets to be seen.” 

Mads Dyre cruised about for an hour but the 
nets were not to be found. That same morn¬ 
ing another boat returned without its nets. It 
was owned by five men and had lost seventy 
nets. 

“It must be thieves again,” the leader of the 
boat cried when he sprang ashore, and Mads Dyre, 


I lO 


FISHING 


who was still on the beach with Henry, clenched 
his fists and exclaimed, shaking with anger: 

“Can’t we catch them? I would give a couple 
of years of my life to get hold of them, stealing 
at sea and from poor folks.” 

The other five men were just as angry as Mads 
and were agreed that something must be done 
about it. They followed Mads home to talk the 
matter over and Henry went with them. 

When they had sat down the captain of the 
large boat, Jens Jensen, spoke as follows: 

“I suspect where we can find the fellows. They 
don’t live in this parish but to the north in old 
Ane’s house. You know a couple of chaps came 
here once last winter. They were going to fish, 
they said, and they had a boat, but when we began 
the sole fishing they stayed home and said that they 
had not got their nets yet. Two weeks ago they 
set out twelve nets, but I have heard more than 
one say that they had not come by them honestly. 
They are not liked up there; people are afraid of 
them.” 

“Can’t we go up and examine the house?” Mads 
asked. “I would know my nets and if they are 
there I will take them.” 

“I have thought of another plan,” Jens Jensen 
said. “The last few nights we have not had good 


III 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

catches and I believe the nets have been meddled 
with by the same chaps that have stolen them. If 
we could catch them at it we could get them to con¬ 
fess their robbing the nets. Let us keep watch 
to-night and have the motor boat ready. Mads 
Dyre can lie a piece beyond the nets in his boat. 
As soon as he sees them he can signal with a lan¬ 
tern and we will hurry out with the motor boat. 
They can’t get away because they have no sails.” 

When everything had been arranged they 
parted, after Jens Jensen had urged them not to 
say a word about the scheme to any one. 

“May I go along?” Henry asked. He had 
listened attentively to all the discussion. 

“Yes, if you wish, you may come here this eve¬ 
ning at half past ten,” Mads Dyre said. 


X 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 

C ARL did not understand exactly how it 
had happened but Maren had scolded 
him as he had never been scolded 
before. He had been out in the kitchen whit¬ 
tling and she had lost her temper. He had 
often whittled there without her having said a 
word about it. But this time she had said that 
he was ungrateful and that he was a poor body 
that could not stand anything. She had said a 
good deal more and she had quite overwhelmed 
him with her eloquence. He knew that Maren 
had a sharp tongue but she had never spoken like 
that to him before. 

Carl went down to the beach, his feelings 
evenly divided between grief and anger. He con¬ 
sidered whether he should beg Maren’s pardon. 
He longed to be able to do something that would 
show Maren that he was not a booby but he did 
not know what it should be. If he only knew 
how to swim he would swim out beyond the last 
sand bar and there would be some one to see him 

113 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

do it and to tell Maren. Or he would take out a 
boat in a storm and Maren would see that he was 
not afraid. He might try to drive Knight, his 
father’s new horse. He was pretty wild and Carl 
was not an accomplished driver but Maren would 
see that he was not afraid. Perhaps the best 
thing of all would be for him to fight some boy. 
But where was the boy and what sort of a showing 
could he make? He was not used to fighting. 

Suddenly he saw four boys coming towards him 
from the north and he considered whether he 
should run away. They might be some of the 
dwarfs. But he quieted himself with the thought 
that he had had nothing to do with them and 
that they would not bother him. The first part 
of his calculation proved correct but not the second 
part. They were four dwarfs and as soon as 
they had reached Carl they surrounded him. 

“You are our prisoner,” the leader, Christian 
Mortensen, said. 

“Leave me alone or I will tell my father,” Carl 
exclaimed. But his answer was only a hearty 
laugh. 

“Tell your father, tell your father! Will 
mother’s darling tell tales?” one of them sneered. 

“Have any of you a rope to tie his hands?” 
Christian asked, looking very much pleased. 

114 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 

Carl reflected on all the day’s troubles. He 
thought of trying to break through the ring but 
gave it up as hopeless. When they tied his hands 
he offered no resistance but only whimpered. 
They laughed at having captured a regular 
stumpy. 

They walked north, all except Carl in fine 
spirits. After they had crossed the boundary be¬ 
tween the two parishes they lay down on the sand 
and considered what they should do with their 
captive. They talked freely about the matter and 
Carl, who sat in the center of the group, grew 
more and more alarmed as the discussion con¬ 
tinued. 

“Can’t we lock him up and keep him until the 
stumpies pay back the fifty crowns that father had 
to pay for his own bull?” Christian proposed. 

“Suppose we tar and feather him,” another one 
suggested, looking very serious. 

“Why don’t you let me go?” Carl asked, in a 
tearful voice. “I have never done anything to 
you.” 

“That may be so, young fellow,” Christian an¬ 
swered. “But all of you down there are enemies 
and will be treated as enemies.” 

The discussion was continued, but they could 
not agree on any one plan. At last they began to 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


quarrel. Christian wished to dress the prisoner 
in women’s clothes and send him home, but the 
others thought that that would be letting him 
off too easily. Suddenly In the heat of the argu¬ 
ments a crowd of boys appeared to the north and 
Christian saw that It was the whole beach gang, 
nine In all. 

“We must get out,” he cried, springing up. 
“Come along I” he said to Carl, “or we will give 
you a licking the next time we see you.” 

The dwarfs fled to the south, but Carl did not 
follow them and he was soon joined by the gang. 
Henry untied his hands and Carl was happy 
enough to see him now. He laughed and thanked 
him and told how he had been captured and of 
the plans of the dwarfs. At last he asked if he 
might not join the gang and as Henry supported 
him warmly his request was granted. 

“We must go after them,” Hans said. “But 
let’s fool them by going to the north. Then we 
can go among the dunes and try to reach them.” 
An hour later the gang lay up on the dunes just 
above the dwarfs, who lay on the sand, thinking 
themselves safe from further attack. They were 
undressing for a swim. 

“Wait,” Christian, the merchant’s son, whis¬ 
pered. “After they are out In the water run 

116 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 

down and keep them from coming ashore. I’ll be 
back in quarter of an hour and we’ll have some 
sport.” 

As soon as the dwarfs were in the water the 
gang rushed down and took their stand near the 
clothes, assuring the other that they would take 
good care of them. 

“You had better swim home,” Hans cried. “It 
will be some time before you land here.” 

“What a lot of hippopotamuses,” Happy 
William said, laughing, “you look like a zoo.” 

“Make yourselves at home and wash yourselves 
clean,” Knud cried, “you must need it, your roads 
are so dusty.” 

The members of the gang made great fun of 
them and Carl joined in. He had his own private 
grievance to avenge. But the dwarfs stood in 
the water up to their waists, looking very foolish. 
They gazed longingly at their clothes but could 
not see any way of getting hold of them. 

Then Christian appeared, pushing a little hand¬ 
cart and in the cart was the surprise, a fire hose. 

“Now you can be bathed,” Knud cried, “and 
you can get a shower bath, too.” 

The gang took off their shoes and stockings, the 
hose was put a little way out in the water and 
Joseph filled the reservoir. Knud and Christian 

117 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


pumped and Hans held the hose. The first stream 
struck Christian Mortensen squarely in the face 
and he tumbled over backwards with a shriek. 
Each of the others got a dose. They tried to 
protect themselves but as they had only their 
hands it was of no use. If one of them tried to 
slip away the stream was turned on him and 
he had to duck to escape. The members of the 
gang laughed so hard that they had to take turns 
at the pump and the reservoir. Finally Hans 
gave orders to stop pumping and started nego¬ 
tiations. 

“Now you see how bathing is carried on here 
at the beach. If you care to you may come here 
every day and bring your friends along. But 
perhaps you are so clean that you won’t need to 
bathe again this summer. Do you want to come 
ashore?” 

“Yes,” said Christian Mortensen, “we are 
cold.” 

“You can’t expect a warm bath at this time 
of the year,” Hans said. “You may come ashore 
on condition that you shake hands with Carl and 
beg his pardon for having taken him prisoner. 
Then you must kneel down in front of us and 
say: ‘We poor dwarfs thank you for our punish¬ 
ment.’ Do you understand?” 

ii8 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 

“We won’t do that!” Christian Mortensen 
cried. 

“Pump I” HanS said. A stream rushed out and 
struck Christian. He threw out his arms and 
tried to keep his balance but he fell down. When 
he got up again, blowing and sputtering, he gave 
In. He did not want to swallow any more salt 
water. They shuffled ashore and one after the 
other shook Carl’s hand and asked pardon. 

“Kneel 1” commanded Hans, while the hose was 
still pointed at them. “What are you to say?” 

“We poor dwarfs thank you for our punish¬ 
ment,” they stammered. But Christian Morten¬ 
sen remained silent. A stream struck him. “Say 
It!”' Hans cried and Christian cried back: 

“We poor dwarfs thank you for our punish¬ 
ment.” After that he was released. 

“Put on your clothes!” Hans commanded and 
he did not have to repeat the command. In a 
few moments they were dressed and hurrying 
home. But the members of the gang were agreed 
that It was the jolliest afternoon they had had for 
a long time. They were drenched themselves but 
they did not mind that; they were used to It. 

As It was almost supper time the boys sep¬ 
arated. Henry and Carl went together and for 
the first time they talked freely. Carl told how 

119 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


he had been surprised and related the long dis¬ 
cussion the dwarfs had had. They recalled with 
glee many of the scenes in the water. Henry told 
about his two fishing trips and the nets that had 
been lost and the plan to catch the thieves. 

“Are you going out this evening with them?” 
Carl asked. 

“Yes, if your father will let me go.” 

“Do you think it will be dangerous?” Carl 
asked. “They may shoot or run down the boat.” 

Henry thought not. They would probably try 
to get away. After a while Carl said: 

“I wonder if I might go, too. I have never 
spoken to Mads Dyre.” 

“I am sure you may,” Henry hastened to reply. 
He was at the same time surprised and delighted 
at the change in Carl and was determined to do 
everything in his power to get Mads Dyre’s per¬ 
mission. When they came to the farm they met 
Mr. Lund, who had been in the stable. He looked 
at them in surprise. Carl had his arm in Henry’s 
and they were talking eagerly together. 

“Where did you come from?” he asked. “You 
look wet.” 

Carl blushed and was silent but Henry told 
about the encounter with the dwarfs and their 
miserable defeat. 


120 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 


“And were you along, Carl?” Mr. Lund asked, 
when Henry had finished his account. 

“Yes,” Carl answered quietly, adding in a 
moment with more spirit: “It was such fun.” 

Mr. Lund nodded with satisfaction and 
laughed. 

“I wish I had seen the performance. Hans and 
Christian are a couple of tough fellows. You 
can have plenty of fun with them.” 

Henry seized the opportunity to ask leave to 
stay out that night. Mr. Lund scratched his head 
and did not know what to say. But when Carl 
asked to go along on the expedition he clapped 
his hands together and exclaimed: 

“Yes, of course you may! You may stay out all 
night and to-morrow, too. And if there is any¬ 
thing else you want to do just tell me. If you both 
come together I can almost promise you that I will 
not say no. I will talk to mother about it all and 
you can disappear as soon as you are ready.” 

As Henry and Carl were on their way to Mads 
Dyre’s at ten o’clock they ran right into Maren 
who had been in the garden. 

“Where are you going?” she asked harshly. 

“To the beach,” Henry replied. 

“You can’t go. At least you will stay here, 
Carl.” 


I2I 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Carl was about to obey her when he came to 
think of how Maren had treated him that 
morning. 

“No, I won’t,” he said. “I am going with 
Henry.” 

Maren caught her breath. It was the first time 
Carl had ever opposed her. She was silent for a 
moment but then she cried out: 

“What do you say, you bad boy? Haven’t I 
told you to keep away from the mulattto? He 
will be the ruin of you. Some fine day he will 
beat you, but you will have yourself to thank for 
it. Come right in with me I” 

Carl did not feel very brave. He tried to hide 
behind Henry and his whole body trembled. 

“Come, Carl,” Henry said, “we have leave to 
go and Maren has nothing to say about it. 
Let’s go.” 

Henry took Carl’s hand and drew him along. 
But Maren lost all control of herself. 

“You black rascal!” she hissed and rushed 
at Henry. Before he could defend himself she 
had struck him a blow on his head. “I’ll tell 
father that you hit Henry,” Carl cried. “You 
have no right to do that.” 

“You can have some, too,” Maren replied. But 
Carl ran away as fast as he could, leaving Henry 

122 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 

behind him. They did not stop running until they 
were out of reach of Maren’s long, crooked 
arms. 

“Why is she so mean?” Henry asked. “I 
haven’t done anything to her.” 

“I don’t know,” Carl answered, “but I will 
tell father that she struck you.” 

“Nein, you mustn’t. She didn’t hurt me. You 
mustn’t tell on her.” 

At first Carl was afraid of Mads Dyre and 
kept close to Henry, but he was relieved when the 
fisherman brought out some hazel nuts from his 
chest and told his guests to eat as many as they 
wished. He smiled so good-naturedly that Carl 
forgot all the stories he had heard about the old 
hermit. 

“It’s fine to have a couple youngsters in the 
room,” Mads Dyre said, nodding his head. 
“Come oftener. I have a few things that you 
can use and we can find something to talk 
about.” 

After they had sat for a little while Mads Dyre 
said: 

“Now that there are three of us, Henry, you 
had better go in the motor boat. Two are enough 
in my boat, so Carl can go with me. That is 
the safest trip for we shan’t meet the robbers.” 

123 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Henry had no objection to this arrangement 
for it would let him take part in the exciting chase 
to which he looked forward. Carl was not so 
enthusiastic. He did not like the idea of being 
separated from Henry but he did not feel that 
he could draw back. 

A little after half past ten they went down 
to the beach where a number of fishermen had 
already gathered including the crew of the motor 
boat. As soon as they appeared Jens Jensen came 
over to them. 

“Here is the telescope, Mads,” he said. “You 
had better start right off. We are on the right 
track. The rascals have set two long nets. The 
only question is whether they will be satisfied with 
the soles they catch in the stolen nets or if they 
will go after the nets down here.” 

Mads Dyre was ready, but he had to make 
arrangements for Henry. There was no diffi¬ 
culty about that. Henry and Jens Jensen had 
often met on the beach, so that they were old 
acquaintances. 

When the boat “was ready to push off Carl stood 
for a moment and hesitated. He would have 
liked to run home but that would look foolish 
with so many people there. He trembled a little 
when he got into the little boat but he soon re- 

124 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 

gained his courage and waved his hand to 
Henry. 

It was tiresome waiting and the men whispered 
to one another about the robbers and the chances 
of catching them. An hour passed, an hour and 
a half. It couldn’t be much longer. Henry stayed 
all the time by Jens Jensen’s side and gazed out 
over the water, looking for the lantern. The peo¬ 
ple on the beach were about to give up when they 
saw the lantern waving to the north. The motor 
boat stood ready at the edge of the water and 
there were plenty of willing hands to shove it out. 

“Up into the boat, Henry,” Jens Jensen com¬ 
manded and Henry did not wait for a second 
command. 

The keel scraped* along the sand and was soon 
bobbing up and down with deep water under her. 
The engine was started and the boat shot ahead 
on a northwest course. At the bow Jens Jensen 
stood on the lookout, with Henry close by his 
side. They went for some distance without a 
word, when Jens Jensen announced: 

“Boat ahead! Turn farther to the north.” 

They continued to advance in silence. They 
could all see the boat now and it was evidently 
trying to escape. But the chances were uneven, a 
rowboat against a motor boat. ,The result was 

125 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

sure. Soon they were near enough to the boat to 
hail her. 

“Ship your oars!” Jens Jensen roared to the 
fugitives and they obeyed the order. “How big 
a catch do you have?” he asked, when the boats 
lay alongside of each other. 

“We have a hundred and twenty,” was the 
reply. 

“I suppose you were not through,” Jens Jensen 
said, tauntingly. 

The two unfortunate fishermen, both of them 
young men, glanced at each other without saying 
a word. 

“How dare you steal from other people’s 
nets?” Jens Jensen thundered. “Give up the 
catch!” 

“Those are our own nets,” one of them mum¬ 
bled, but his voice did not sound very convincing. 

“I’ll give you your own nets,” Jens Jensen cried, 
and before the other could offer any resistance 
Jensen bent over him, seized him by the collar and 
dragged him over into the motor boat. The rob¬ 
ber tried to resist but Jens Jensen had gigantic 
strength and the other one soon cried out under 
the iron grip. 

“Now you may look out,” Jens Jensen said, and 
to Henry’s horror he took hold of the prisoner 

126 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 


by the legs and held him over the gunwale of the 
boat. He then dipped him half a dozen times 
so thoroughly that only the soles of his shoes were 
above water. When he drew the prisoner in 
again after the last ducking the latter sputtered 
and spat in every direction. 

“Didn’t you catch any soles?” Jens Jensen 
asked. “Possibly you couldn’t find the nets. 
Hurry up and get through coughing and we will 
try again. There are lots of soles now, you may 
be able to catch some of them.” He stood for 
a moment and looked at the fisherman and then he 
asked in a different tone of voice: 

“Haven’t you been stealing from our nets?” 
The prisoner protested and spat. “Well, then, 
you will have to look down at the fish again,” 
Jens Jensen said, preparing to seize the fellow. 
“If you see any soles you can ask them if they 
haven’t seen my nets.” 

“Let me be I” cried the captive, his whole body 
shaking from cold. 

“Tell me where you have the nets you stole from 
us,” Jens Jensen said. “But you had better hurry 
or I will throw you overboard to look for 
them.” 

“They are two miles due west from the church,” 

127 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


was the reply from the man in the boat, who was 
afraid that his turn would come next. 

“Thank you for the news. We had better go 
and get them,” Jens Jensen said, hauling the other 
man into the motor boat. “Come along; you can 
jump out and bring them in.” 

Just as the examination was ended Mads Dyre 
came to hear the result. They took him in tow 
but the thieves’ boat was left to its own devices. 
The rest of the trip was quite peaceful. The 
thieves showed where the nets were, helped to 
draw them in and did not lay claim to a single 
one. Their only desire was to get out of Jens 
Jensen’s clutches. And Jens Jensen had mercy 
on them. As soon as all the nets were in the boat 
he immediately grew milder and promised them 
that they might go away scot free. When they 
landed they were allowed to leave with a vigorous 
admonition that another time they would be more 
harshly treated. 

“Hurry home to bed!” Mads Dyre said to 
Henry and Carl after the unfortunate fishermen 
had disappeared behind the dunes. They took 
their time on the way back as they had so much 
to talk about. The sun was already up before they 
reached home. 

“That was a bully trip,” Carl said, before 

128 


A FRIENDSHIP IS FORMED 


he fell asleep, and Henry agreed with him. But 
Maren, who had heard them come home, prom¬ 
ised herself that she would have a serious talk 
with Mr. and Mrs. Lund before Henry had been 
the ruin of Carl. 


XI 


GOOD NEWS 

T he friendship between Henry and Carl 
came as a surprise to them and to all the 
family. Henrilc Lund rubbed his hands 
together with delight, Mrs. Lund nodded happily 
every time she saw them together. But Maren 
was both grieved and angry. She saw less and less 
of Carl every day. She no longer comforted him 
in his small sorrows and his joys he shared with 
Henry. She felt almost as if she had nothing 
more to live for and she went about quietly, a 
mere shadow of the brisk, noisy Maren. 

But Henry and Carl spent long, happy, sunny 
days together and were seldom apart. On the 
days that Carl had to go to school Henry accom¬ 
panied him to the schoolhouse and met him there 
later. The other days they were together from 
the time that they sprang up in the morning until 
bedtime. 

Henry was the leader and at times he was 
reckless. Carl admired him but as he was nat¬ 
urally cautious he often held back when Henry 

130 


GOOD NEWS 


started off with dauntless courage. Henry would 
then coax him and it happened more and more 
frequently that he succeeded in getting Carl to 
follow him. As a rule there were no bad results 
but in case of an accident Henry was always at 
hand to make the best of it. 

Finally Henrik Lund was allowed to see the 
torn trousers. It happened one day when Henry 
and Carl were down at the beach. They had 
had many adventures when they decided to climb 
up on the roof of a guard house. It was Henry’s 
suggestion and he first helped Carl up. Then 
came the accident. There was a crash and Carl 
disappeared through the roof right up to his shoul¬ 
ders. He could not get either up or down and 
he complained bitterly. With considerable trouble 
Henry succeeded in hauling him up but there was 
not much left of the seat of his trousers and his 
jacket was badly torn. The trip home was not 
pleasant. Carl was very unhappy and serious and 
Henry was hardly less troubled. But Henrik 
Lund laughed when he heard the story and saw 
the trousers. He comforted Carl by telling him 
that those were his first torn trousers and that 
he had been a long time finding them. 

The warm summer days and the light nights 
passed quickly and Henry and Carl could not 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


understand what had become of them. The three 
months were soon over. One afternoon Henry 
and Carl were down at the beach. They had been 
out swimming and were enjoying a sun bath. 

“Won’t you stay here three months longer?” 
Carl asked. He had asked this question many 
times. 

But Henry shook his head. 

“I can’t. Mother expects me and she would be 
sorry if I did not come. She has no one but 
me. 

Carl continued to beg but he always got the 
same reply, “I can’t.” 

Then he finally asked: 

“Won’t you come back after you have been 
home a little while?” 

“Yes, I would like to do that,” Henry said. 

They sat for a long time without saying any¬ 
thing, filled with the thought of parting. Finally 
Henry broke the silence and suggested that they 
should pay Mads Dyre a visit. Carl was quite 
ready to go. Ever since the night he had spent 
with Mads in his boat he had lost all fear of 
him and had visited him often. 

They found him busily engaged in mending a 
net but as soon as he saw them he put it aside. 

“It was good of you to come to see me,” he 

132 


GOOD NEWS 

said. “Nobody else ever comes here. Mads 
Dyre’s credit is not very good in this parish.” He 
stirred about in the room, brushed the cat down 
from the chair and asked his guests to be seated. 
Then he got a pack of old, dirty cards and put it 
on the table. 

“Shall we play a game?” he said. “Then we 
can make coffee.” 

They played cards in high glee. When Mads 
Dyre lost, his laughter sounded through the little 
room and when he won he was as happy as a 
little child. His eyes often rested on Henry and 
they were filled with a warm, deep glow. They 
played many games; they all won and they all 
lost. They played old maid, seven up, and hearts, 
and after the games they had coffee and rye bread. 

While they were drinking their coffee steps 
sounded outside. Mads looked in surprise at the 
door. 

“Are there more visitors?” he said. “Birds of 
a feather flock together.” But when he saw the 
guests he stood up with a start. They were the 
two young thieves. They carried heavy sticks and 
had evidently not come on a friendly errand. 

“Do you wish to speak to me?” Mads Dyre 
asked, looking calmly at them. 

“We sure do,” one of them answered. He was 

133 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

slender and was the victim of the ducking. “But 
can’t the boys go? We can talk better without 
them.” He glanced at the boys and it was evi¬ 
dent that their presence interfered with their 
plans. 

“We can’t have anything to talk about that they 
can’t hear,” Mads Dyre said. 

“They must go,” the taller of the two said. 
He was broad as well as tall and had a threatening 
expression. 

“It is my house,” Mads Dyre said, smiling 
scornfully. “You had better go yourselves.” He 
stood a moment in thought, then turned towards 
Henry and Carl. “You had better go. When 
I think of it I really have something to talk about 
with these two men.” He nodded to them and his 
face was calm, without a sign of uneasiness. 

“Let’s go!” Carl whispered to Henry. He had 
recognized the two unexpected guests and was 
shaking all over. Henry had also recognized 
them and he was quite ready to leave, not from 
fear, but in order to get help. He saw that old 
Mads was in danger and that it was necessary to 
act promptly. 

“Yes, let’s go,” he said. He went slowly and 
indifferently as if he were not concerned. Carl 
followed him and the cat sprang out. But as 

134 


GOOD NEWS 

soon as they were out doors Henry appeared like 
another being. 

“Come, we will run hom^ and fetch your 
father,” he said, and before Carl realized what 
he was doing Henry was far ahead. Near the 
woods he met the gang, eight in number. They 
were looking for some dwarfs who were visiting 
the parish. He quickly explained the situation to 
them and asked them to go to Mads Dyre’s 
assistance and they were quite willing. While he 
ran towards Kjaerholm the company advanced 
double trot to Mads Dyre’s house. 

When Henry reached home he saw an automo¬ 
bile in front of the house, but he had not time 
to look at it closely. He rushed in, exclaiming: 

“Is father here?” 

When he saw him at the end of the table he 
rushed towards him and told him excitedly what 
had happened. He mixed Danish and German, 
correcting some words and repeating others, with¬ 
out stopping for breath. 

It was not until he had finished his account that 
he took time to look at the strangers in the room. 
There were two gentlemen. One of them he did 
not know, but when he looked at the other one 
he was startled. It was the beardless gentleman 
from the Hofburg, the gentleman who had known 

135 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


his father. The stranger smiled and nodded and 
Henry went over and greeted him, surprised, but 
with his thoughts still on Mads Dyre. 

Henrik Lund had sprung up, seizing his hat 
and arming himself with a heavy cane. He turned 
towards one of the gentlemen. 

“Will you drive me down there. Consul Bcsser- 
mann? There is no danger.” 

The consul was quite ready. In a few words he 
explained the situation to the Austrian gentleman 
and they all hurried out to the automobile. 

“Do you want to go along?” the consul asked 
Henry. 

“Yes, thank you,” Henry answered. 

After Henry and Carl had left Mads Dyrc’s 
house there was a lively discussion for a time 
among the three men. Mads Dyre stood at the 
end of the table with his arms crossed, looking at 
his two uninvited guests who were talking ex¬ 
citedly as if to raise their courage. 

“You were the spy I” the slender one cried. 
“We know it. We were only looking for our 
own nets which you stole. But we will report you 
to the police.” 

“That would be fine!” Mads Dyre said, 
mockingly. 

“We have come to beat you up,” the tall one 

136 


GOOD NEWS 


said, pounding the floor with his stick. “You 
were the leader but we will cure you of that.” 

“If you want to strike an old man you are 
welcome but I advise you to look out. It is a 
dangerous matter to assault any one. You may 
come to repent it.” Mads Dyre did not take his 
eyes from them and was prepared to defend 
himself. 

“That’s all very well,” the slender man said, 
sneeringly. “How long were you there ? Where 
did you. . . ?” 

He did not finish the sentence. Mads Dyre’s 
fist struck him in the face and he stumbled back. 

“Knock him down I” his victim cried. “He 
attacked us.” He was very fierce but he kept at 
a safe distance after experiencing Mads Dyre’s 
strength. The tall man did not seem to want to 
engage in a fight but scowled and mumbled an 
oath. 

“Get out!” Mads Dyre said, approaching them. 
He had noticed their hesitation and had reckoned 
on their giving way. But he was mistaken. They 
kept their position and when he was within reach 
they fell on him. They tried to throw him down 
but without success. Then they raised their sticks, 
but the door flew open and in a moment the room 
was filled with boys. The two avengers drew back 

137 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


and looked about in surprise. What was the 
meaning of this crowd of boys all armed with 
cudgels ? 

“What do you want?” the slender one asked. 
“Get out of here!” 

“We have come to visit Mads Dyre,” Hans 
answered boldly. “Is there anything the matter 
with that?” 

The slender man lost all control of himself at 
these words and rushed towards Hans. But Mads 
Dyre succeeded in catching hold of him. Then the 
tall man took a hand. He struck right and left 
and many of the boys were knocked down. The 
slender man slipped out of Mads Dyre’s grasp and 
joined his friend. The fight was on. 

An automobile whizzed up to the door with 
new participants in the festivities. The slender 
young man felt himself seized by the collar; he 
was twisted round, given two powerful boxes on 
the ears and landed outside on his head. 

“Where is the other one?” Henrik Lund asked 
and in an instant he had hold of him and gave him 
the same treatment as his companion. It could 
not have been done more neatly by a professional 
“bouncer.” 

“I see you can attend to that little business your¬ 
self,” Consul Bessermann said, and the Austrian 

13S 


GOOD NEWS 


gentleman laughed at the thought of the haste of 
the two assailants. But the boys stood with open 
mouths, gazing at Henrik Lund. The little room 
was crowded but Hans ordered the company to 
march out. Mads Dyre followed them to the 
door and thanked them heartily. It seemed 
to him the happiest day he had known in a long 
time. 

It was not until evening after the guests had 
driven away that Henry learned what their busi¬ 
ness was. 

“Come, Henry, and sit here by me,” Henrik 
Lund said. Henry sat down on the sofa. He 
was a little anxious because he felt that the visit 
of the strange gentlemen had something to do 
with him. 

“Would you like to stay here a little longer?” 
Henrik Lund said, putting his hand over Henry’s. 

“Say yes!” Carl exclaimed eagerly and Mrs. 
Lund nodded. Henry’s dark eyes grew still darker 
and filled with tears. 

“I would like to, but I must to my mother go,” 
he stammered. “You must not be angry, but I 
can’t.” 

“Won’t you stay if your mother comes here?” 
Henrik Lund asked smiling. “She will come 
two days before you leave and will stay here a 

139 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


few months. But I suppose you will go home 
nevertheless ?” 

“Is that really true?” Henry asked, looking 
beseechingly at Mrs. Lund. 

“Yes, it is, Henry. Your mother will be here 
in about two weeks. The Austrian colonel who 
was here arranged it. He knows your mother and 
asked us to receive her and there is nothing we 
would rather do. The colonel is in Denmark 
with a children’s train. He is going back to¬ 
morrow and he will make arrangements about her 
passport.” 

Henry realized now that it was not a joke but 
that his mother was really coming to the won¬ 
derland. Filled with joy he threw his arms around 
Henrik Lund’s neck and, half crying, half 
laughing, exclaimed: 

“Thank you, foster father I How kind you all 
are. 

“My boy, you are choking me,” Henrik Lund 
said, laughingly trying to defend himself. But 
Henry hugged him only the more. Mrs. Lund’s 
turn came next. “If you don’t stop I will scratch 
you,” she finally gasped. 

“You can’t, little foster mother,” Henry 
laughed. “I am holding you so that you can’t.” 

All the evening Henry was filled with happy 

140 


GOOD NEWS 


excitement. He went out and found the fore¬ 
man to whom he told the glad news and he also 
confided in the maid and the shepherd. But 
when in his joy he tried to make peace with 
Maren he was rebuffed. Maren was in the 
kitchen washing the dishes when he came storming 
out. She stood deep in her own sad thoughts. 
Suddenly she noticed a pair of arms about her 
neck and heard a happy exclamation: 

“Maren, let’s be friends. Mother is coming.” 

But Maren was not inclined to be friendly. 

“Is that you, you miserable mulatto,” she 
almost screamed. “I wish you were far away!” 
and before Henry knew it she had rubbed the 
dishcloth in his face. 

Henry sputtered and spat, but Carl, who had 
witnessed the whole scene, grew very angry. 

“Why are you so cross to Henry? He has 
never done you any harm,” he stammered, amazed 
at his own boldness. 

“Yes, he has; he is ruining you.” 

“That is not true,” Carl said quietly. “Henry 
is never bad; I love him.” 

Maren made no reply but Henry said: 

“Come, let’s go. I am sorry that Maren is 
angry but she will like mother.” 


XII 


HARD TIMES 

H enry was sick. Two doctors sat by his 
bedside but neither of them could tell 
what was the matter with him. 

“How long is it since he fell asleep?” the older 
one, the family physician, asked. 

“Almost twelve hours,” Mrs. Lund answered. 
She had sat by him all that time. 

“I am afraid there is little hope,” the younger 
doctor said, and the other one nodded. “He 
ought to be taken to the hospital but he can’t be 
moved.” 

“Is there nothing to be done?” Henrik Lund 
asked, looking from one to the other. Both 
physicians shook their heads. 

“Nothing!” the family physician said, and his 
colleague added: 

“There is not much hope; but a miracle might 
happen.” 

After the doctors had gone Mr. and Mrs. Lund 
remained by the sick bed. 

142 


HARD TIMES 


“It can’t be true that he will die,” Mrs. Lund 
whispered. “It is too terrible to think of.” 

“No, it must not be true,” Mr. Lund whispered 
in reply. “I dare not think of it. In four days 
his mother will be here. If she were only here 
now!” 

“Go in and lie down,” Mrs. Lund said. “I 
will call you when I feel tired. And you must 
comfort Carl. He is quite beside himself with 
grief. Tell him that Henry will get well. Tell 
him that everything will be all right if only we 
have patience.” 

Henrik Lund went out, more to be alone than 
to rest. He was filled with an overpowering 
anxiety that gave him no rest but drove him from 
place to place. Mrs. Lund was just as anxious 
but she was quieter. She did not stir from the 
side of the bed. She carefully dried Henry’s 
forehead and moistened his lips; she watched his 
every movement, looking for the least sign of 
improvement. The night passed and day came 
without any change. Henry lay quiet, opening his 
eyes occasionally but immediately closing them 
again. The old family physician called and exam¬ 
ined him but shook his head. It must be pneu¬ 
monia in a severe form. There was not much 
hope. 


143 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Poor boy!” he said as he left the room. 

Everything was quiet at Kjaerholm. No 
wagons were allowed to enter the courtyard and 
every one moved about silently, barely whispering. 
Carl spent most of his time in the kitchen, staring 
ahead of him without seeing anything. For a long 
time Maren pretended not to see him. But on 
the third day she sat down by him and whispered: 

“If only Henry may get well!” 

“Do you say that, Maren?” 

“Yes, I do,” Maren said, emphatically. 

“Aren’t you angry with him any more?” Carl 
asked, looking up. 

“He never did anything to me. I believe he is 
a good boy. I am sure he loves his mother.” 

Carl’s face cleared a little. 

“I was sure you would come to like him,” he 
said. 

After having lain still two days, on the third 
day Henry grew very restless. Henrik Lund had 
been with him that morning but now Mrs. Lund 
was seated by his bed and she had difficulty in con¬ 
trolling him in his attacks of delirium. He strug¬ 
gled to get up and, half in Danish, half in German, 
he expressed a wish to go to the station to meet 
his mother. It was only a few hours before the 
time of her arrival but how different the meeting 

144 


HARD TIMES 


would be from what they had expected. Consul 
Bessermann had promised to meet her and to pre¬ 
pare her. He would also accompany her to the 
house and act as interpreter. It would be too 
hard not to be able to talk with her under these 
circumstances. 

Mrs. Lund was deep in her own thoughts when 
Carl suddenly aroused her by putting his hand 
on her shoulder. He had entered the room with¬ 
out her having noticed it. 

“Mother, see, he is sleeping quietly.” Carl 
whispered. Mrs. Lund looked at Henry and 
noticed a marked change. He was breathing eas¬ 
ily and naturally and his face held a slight tinge of 
color. 

“God be praised!” Mrs. Lund said quietly. 
“Now I believe he will recover.” 

She stole quietly out of the room to announce 
the happy change to her husband and he came up 
to convince himself that it was true. He carried 
the news farther and soon Maren crept in, fol¬ 
lowed by the foreman, the maid, and towards 
evening by Mads Dyre. Mads had come every 
day, and every day had gone away weeping. Now 
he wept again but it was with joy. 

When the doctor came he could hardly believe 
his own eyes. 


145 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

“How long has he been sleeping so quietly?” 
he asked. 

“Almost five hours,” Mrs. Lund answered. 

“I do not understand it,” the old doctor said. 
“I have been waiting all day for a telephone mes¬ 
sage that he was dead.” 

“Do you think he will get well?” Henrik Lund 
asked. 

“He certainly will. His temperature is normal. 
When he wakes up he will be quite himself again.” 

Henrik Lund went and telephoned to Consul 
Bessermann. Mrs. Lund went out for a moment 
and Maren sat down by Henry’s bed. She sat 
and looked at him and wondered how she could 
ever have been angry with him. 

Suddenly he opened his eyes and looked at her. 
A smile passed over his face and he tried to 
nod his head. 

“Maren, mother is coming,” he said, in a clear 
voice. 

“Yes, she is coming,” Maren answered, her 
voice choked with tears. 

“Maren, can’t we be friends?” he asked 
seriously. 

“Yes, yes, my boy!” Maren whispered. “I am 
so sorry that I have been cross to you. Can you 
forget it?” 


146 


HARD TIMES 

Henry smiled. 

“I was sure we would be friends when mother 
came,” he said. 

Maren went out to announce that Henry had 
waked up—and to hide her tears. Henry lay 
in bed and was happy. His mother would soon 
be there and everything would be all right. She 
would not be hungry any more. It was so won¬ 
derful to think of her being in Denmark. 

“Are you lying there loafing?” Henrik Lund 
said, coming into the room, and behind him ap¬ 
peared Mrs. Lund’s smiling face. Carl had come, 
too, to greet him. 

Mrs. Lund stroked Henry’s forehead and he 
seized her hand. 

“Thank you for sitting by me,” he said. “I 
saw you often but I couldn’t say anything because 
I was sick.” 

“Are you sure it wasn’t sheer laziness?” Henrik 
Lund asked him, teasingly. 

“No, no,” Henry assured him. “I was sick. 
Long sick and much sick.” 

“Very sick you mean,” Carl said, correcting 
him. 

“No, much sick! That is the way I talk,” 
Henry said, laughingly. 

Mrs. Lund quieted him. 

147 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

“You must not talk so much and we mustn’t 
either. You must save your strength,” she said. 

But Henry had so many questions to ask that 
he could not keep quiet and they had to answer 
him, for he persisted until they did. At last he 
grew tired and lay back without speaking. But 
there was a smile on his lips and his eyes re¬ 
vealed his thoughts. Suddenly the smile disap¬ 
peared and he lay as if he were listening for 
something from a distance. 

“What is it?” Mrs. Lund asked, looking at 
him in terror. 

“Something is coming,” he whispered. But 
they could hear nothing. He lay for a while 
and the expression on his face grew more and 
more strained. 

“Can’t you hear it?” he asked, but they heard 
nothing. They feared that he was delirious again. 
Then they heard the sound of an automobile 
approaching at great speed. 

“It is mother,” Henry whispered, smiling again. 
“It is my mother who Is coming. Can’t you 
hear it?” 

At the same moment the automobile stopped 
in front of the door and Mrs. Lund bent down 
and kissed Henry on his forehead. 

“Yes, it Is your mother coming, Henry.” 


XIII 


MADS DYKE’S PARTY 


M 


ADS DYKE had had a busy afternoon 
putting his little room in order for his 
guests. He had scrubbed the floor in 


the living room and kitchen and sprinkled fine, 
white sand over it. The old, rickety table had 
an almost new checkered oil-cloth cover, which 
he had borrowed. He had also borrowed cups 
and plates, a cake dish, a chocolate pot and other 
necessities. It was many a year since he had 
had a party. 

“You must keep away from the windows. 
Pussy,” Mads Dyre said to the cat, who sat in 
the middle of the floor, making her toilet for the 
party. “You must not spring up there. Your 
paws leave marks.” 

The cat mewed in an injured tone and Mads 
Dyre threatened her. “You must obey orders. 
You and Strut run about the house all the time 
while other cats and hens have to stay out of 
doors. I’ll put Strut in the shed and if you 
don’t behave yourself you will join her there.” 


149 



HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Pussy looked very humble after this admonition 
but as soon as Mads Dyre had turned his back 
she sprang up on to the table and over to the 
window. 

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, you white 
devil!” Mads thundered, turning quickly. “Come 
down, kitty, kitty.” But Pussy was frightened 
by her master’s angry words to which she was not 
accustomed. She ran in under the bed and no 
amount of coaxing would induce her to come out. 
She sat and glared at Mads with sparkling eyes. 
“Stay where you are, you cream-face!” Mads 
grumbled. 

But there was worse trouble to follow, for when 
he went out into the kitchen he found Strut scrap¬ 
ing away at a layer cake, so that the crumbs flew 
to every side. 

“Are you mad. Strut?” Mads Dyre cried, 
struck motionless with dismay. But Strut was 
not crazy. She understood perfectly well what 
cakes were meant for, so she went on scraping 
industriously with the result that the dish fell on 
the floor in a thousand pieces. 

“That’s too bad!” Mads Dyre exclaimed, seiz¬ 
ing Strut so roughly that she cackled In mortal 
terror. “Keep quiet! Do you think that layer 
cake was for you? You ought to have your head 

150 


MADS DYKE’S PARTY 

cut off!” Mads continued to shake and scold the 
old hen and finally threw her into the woodshed. 
Mads Dyre had been growing more and more 
discouraged the whole afternoon at the thought 
of entertaining so many visitors and this was the 
last straw. He talked to himself while he swept 
up the fragments of the cake. It was such a 
fine cake, they couldn’t bake a finer one at Kjaer- 
holm, and now it was ruined. What would old 
Maren at the tollhouse say? She had baked the 
cake for him; it was her dish. It was stupid of 
him to invite those strangers. But he was so fond 
of the boy and he was going away. He did not 
see how he would get along without him. Strange 
that the boy should come to like him. It was a 
comfort to have some one that liked one. That 
was something to live for. But that was all over 
and he would be left alone again. 

When Mads Dyre had finally got the kitchen 
in order again he crept into the living room. Pussy 
sat in the window and made no sign of moving 
and Mads paid no attention to her. He sat down 
on the bench and wished that he might creep into 
the blankets and sleep away from it all. 

When the guests arrived at seven o’clock Mads 
Dyre was ready to go out and stay with Strut the 
rest of the evening. But he remained at his post, 

151 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

an unhappy host, who felt ill at ease in his own 
house. 

Henrik Lund who noticed that Mads Dyre was 
embarrassed exerted himself to entertain the com¬ 
pany and to draw Mads into the conversation. 
He told one funny story after another but Mads 
hardly smiled. He himself said nothing although 
he had had many more adventures than Mr. 
Lund. Then Henry discovered that there was 
something the matter with his old friend. He 
was not himself at all. He crept over to him 
and before Mads Dyre realized it Henry’s arm 
was about his shoulder. 

“You aren’t sick?” Henry asked. 

Mads Dyre started. 

“Sick? No, I’m not sick.” 

“We have been looking forward so to this eve¬ 
ning,” Henry said. 

Mads Dyre’s face brightened. Perhaps it 
would be all right after all. 

“Have you seen anything lately? You know 
the things we others can’t see?” Henry asked. 

Mads Dyre had the reputation of having sec¬ 
ond sight and he made no attempt to conceal what 
he had seen. He had often told Henry about 
events of which he had been forewarned and 
Henry always listened with interest to these tales. 

152 


MADS DYKE’S PARTY 


Mads Dyre looked at Henrik Ltind whom he 
suspected of being skeptical about such things. 
But he nodded emphatically and turning to Henry, 
said: 

“The other day I saw a rocket shot off a little 
to the north of the house and when I went up on 
the hills I saw a steamer on the outer sand bar. 
I saw it quite clearly and I have often seen it 
before. But now it will soon be here. When I 
see it in the forenoon it’s not long before we get 
it. It stayed there about five minutes and then it 
was gone. It will be a hard rescue, there was so 
much noise and confusion and there were broken 
oars in the water.” 

Henrik Lund smiled teasingly. 

“You old fishermen see so much. Of course 
there will be a wreck but I don’t believe that you 
can see it before it happens.” 

“That’s all right,” Mads Dyre said solemnly, 
“but I can tell you that before long you will come 
home wet from the beach and that will be the day 
the steamer is wrecked.” 

“Then it will have to rain hard for I have a 
good oilskin coat,” Henrik Lund said, laughing 
quietly. 

“That won’t help you,” Mads Dyre said, nod¬ 
ding his head. “The water will reach you from 

153 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

below. It is sea water and your coat will not keep 
that out.” 

“I’ll wait till I see it,” Henrik Lund said and 
Mads Dyre answered: 

“You will, too, and you will feel it, for it is 
cold.” 

Mads Dyre felt more at ease. He forgot all 
about the layer cake and everything else over 
Henrik Lund’s unbelief. He told many stories 
about forewarnings that he had seen and heard 
about. But nothing could convince Henrik 
Lund. 

Mads Dyre nodded his head again and told 
another story. 

“You have heard of the heath company of 
fishermen who were lost thirty years ago. It was 
the year Mellemgaard was built. They bought a 
boat at Vorupor and brought it here for repairs 
and got noisy Knud to do the job. But Knud 
did not like that boat. It was restless at night. 
At times it sprang up and knocked against his 
house as if it would break it to pieces. At other 
times he could hear weeping out there. He said 
to the fisherman that they had better get rid of it 
but they only laughed at him and refused even 
after they heard that no company had ever 
fished from that boat without losing some hands. 

154 


MADS DYKE’S PARTY 

“ ‘Well, you may try it,’ Knud said, and they 
tried it and none of them came back.” 

“I remember that they were lost,” Henrik 
Lund said, “but I don’t remember anything else 
about it. But people did say that Knud had second 
sight.” 

“We won’t hear any more such stories,” Maren 
said, very seriously. 

“Are you afraid?” Henrik Lund asked. 

“Of course I am. Suppose a ghost should come 
into my room while I was asleep. I am sure I 
should die of fright before he said a word.” 

“They are not ghosts, they are warnings,” 
Henrik Lund said, laughing. 

“You may call them whatever you wish as long 
as they pass my door,” Maren said, knitting so 
that the needles clashed. 

When Mads Dyre a little while after went out 
into the kitchen to get the coffee and chocolate 
ready Mrs. Lund followed him. He had intended 
to do it all himself but he was easily persuaded 
to turn It over to Mrs. Lund to whom he told the 
story about the layer cake. 

The guests were not ready to leave until mid¬ 
night. Pussy lay on the bed, stuffed with cake and 
cream with which the boys had been allowed to 

155 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

treat her. Strut, who had been forgiven, sat in 
the window and blinked, looking very sleepy. 

After they were all gone Mads Dyre sat at the 
table and gazed at a picture of Henry which 
Mrs. Selmer had given him. He was a regular 
boy; it was not strange that everybody loved 
him. But now he was going away. 


XIV 

THE SHIPWRECK 


M AREN could not sleep after all those 
stories about warnings. She got up to 
close the window, she locked the door, 
she examined the room and looked under the bed. 
What was that she had heard once about a man 
that could carry his head under his arm? Her 
father had often told her about him and of how 
he would set barns on fire. But what was that? 
There was a big bull in the middle of the floor 
staring at her with bloodshot eyes. It was strange 
she had not heard him come in and she had locked 
the door, too. What should she do? She tried 
to scream but could not utter a sound. She tried 
to run away but she could not move. And the bull 
stood there almost filling the room and bellowing 
so that her bed shook. 

‘‘Little bull, you must go out,” Maren finally 
stammered. “You take up room and I am afraid 
of you.” 

The bull did not move but stood and stared at 
her with his frightfully big eyes. Then Henry 

157 



HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


came in and without saying a word he seized the 
bull by its ring and dragged it away. They were 
such good friends that he could do it with perfect 
safety. He was a wonderful boy, he made friends 
with everybody, even with animals. Now even 
she loved him almost as much as Carl. And now 
he had saved her from the bull. 

But why hadn’t he closed the door? The room 
was full of geese, chickens, and ducks. How had 
that happened? The maid must have forgotten 
to close the chicken yard. That was too bad, 
but you could not depend upon those young girls. 
But how was that? The geese had no heads nor 
the ducks and chickens. They carried their heads 
under their wings just like the fellow her father 
had told her about. That must be a warning. She 
tried to call Henry to help her but she could not. 
She felt as if she should choke. 

Suddenly she woke up. All the animals were 
gone and the full moon looked at her through the 
window. She was restless and felt that some¬ 
thing must be wrong, so she decided not to try 
to sleep any more. She took a stocking, sat down 
and began to knit. It was one of her favorite 
sayings that it was better to work well than to 
sleep badly. 

Maren was not the only one that was made rest- 

158 


THE SHIPWRECK 


less by Mads Dyre’s stories. Carl could not for¬ 
get them and he was filled with fear. Every time 
the curtain flapped his heart beat faster and when 
Henry turned in the other bed Carl crept under 
the covers and gasped for breath. 

Finally, after many hours, he fell asleep but 
that did not shut out fear. He dreamed about 
men with their heads under their arms, who 
wanted to take his head off, too, but could not 
do it. That made them angry and they ran after 
him. He tried to run away but he could not stir 
and the headless men attacked him. He awoke 
bathed in perspiration. Towards morning he 
again fell asleep, but was soon awakened by a 
sound that made him jump out of bed. And 
after he was up the sound came again. He whis¬ 
pered Henry’s name but Henry did not answer. 
He hurried into his trousers and went to Maren’s 
door. Maren was sitting in her room knitting by 
the light of a kitchen lamp. They were both 
equally taken by surprise. 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I was so afraid,” Carl stammered, “I must 
have been dreaming.” 

“Oh! you coward!” Maren said, in a superior 
manner. “Who would think that you were thir¬ 
teen years old?” 


159 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

Carl felt a little foolish. Then he asked: 

“Why are you sitting here?” 

“Oh! I had to finish this stocking,” Maren 
said. “When you go out in the evening you 
have to work at night.” 

At the same moment a bellow came which lasted 
a couple of minutes. 

“There it is again,” Carl groaned. “I thought 
I had dreamed it. What is it, Maren?” 

“It is a steamer,” Maren said, dropping her 
stocking. “It sounds as if it must have run 
aground.” She got up and drew the curtain aside 
and the sound came again, this time at short 
intervals. 

“Yes, it must be a steamer that has gone 
ashore,” she said, turning to Carl. “There is a 
heavy fog.” 

Carl stood and wondered that he had not recog¬ 
nized it immediately for he had often heard 
steamers sound their foghorns. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

“It must be about six,” Maren said, shaking 
herself. She was cold and consequently in a bad 
humor. 

“I will go in and wake up Henry and we will 
run down to the beach. Do you think father will 
let us go?” Carl asked. 

i6o 


THE SHIPWRECK 


“I suppose so. I don’t care,” Maren said, be¬ 
ginning her knitting again which had made good 
progress in the course of the night. 

When Carl came back to his room Henry lay 
and grumbled at something. 

“Are you awake?” Carl asked. 

“Yes, there was a cow that was bellowing so 
terribly,” Henry complained in a sleepy voice. 

“That isn’t a cow, it is a steamer that has gone 
ashore,” Carl said. “Hurry up! we must go 
down.” 

Five minutes later they were running down to 
the beach. A man tumbled out of a hut. He 
stood for a moment looking about him, then hur¬ 
ried across the fields towards the lifeboat house. 
Soon there was a sound of wheels and horses’ 
hoofs and a wagon appeared through the fog. 

“That’s Jens Frandsen, the driver of the life¬ 
boat!” Carl cried. “Let’s run up to the station 
and see them put out the boat.” 

When they reached the station there were only 
three men there but before many minutes the 
whole crew had gathered. 

“Out with the boat!” the inspector commanded 
and they carried the heavy undercarriage with the 
boat from the cement floor out on to the grass. 
Every man knew his place and they worked with- 

i6i 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


out much talking. The baggage wagon was loaded 
with oars, rockets and other necessary tools, the 
eight horses were hitched to the lifeboat, and 
everything was ready. 

“Let’s go,” the inspector said. “She is a little 
north of Mads Dyre’s house.” 

Now they felt free to talk and they indulged 
in all sorts of surmises. It must be a trawler. 
It was lucky there was not a heavy sea. It would 
be easy to get the crew off if they were willing 
to leave the boat. 

Henry and Carl kept close to the fishermen and 
Henry was especially anxious not to lose a word of 
what they said, having heard many stories about 
wrecks and dangerous trips with the lifeboat. 
When they reached the beach they could not even 
catch a glimpse of the steamer. It was daylight 
but the fog rested on the sea like a solid wall and 
the steamer was no longer blowing its horn. 

“We had better send up a rocket and keep the 
horses hitched,” the inspector said, and soon after 
a rocket hissed out over the ocean but there was 
no reply. A second rocket was fired off and it 
had hardly disappeared before the steamer 
sounded its horn vigorously. 

“There he is,” said the leader of the boat, 
an old graybeard who had helped many hundreds 

162 


THE SHIPWRECK 

of men and who had the reputation of being able 
to take out a boat when no one else would have 
ventured. “Let’s go out,” he said, turning to¬ 
wards the inspector. “This is not a bad starting 
place.” 

The boat was soon at the edge of the water, 
with its prow towards the sea. The oars were 
put in and every man was furnished with a safety 
belt. The crew was divided evenly on either side 
of the boat. 

“Heave ahoy I” Inch by inch the boat moved 
through the sand. The men ahead met the waves 
but they did not jump aboard until the boat began 
to float. Then the last one sprang in and in 
a moment they were at the oars. 

The few people on the beach could see nothing. 
The inspector marched back and forth, followed 
by his faithful dog. Carl and Henry stood and 
gazed after the boat which had long since dis¬ 
appeared. A dog ran about whining disconso¬ 
lately for his master who was aboard the boat. 

Half an hour passed, then an hour, but the boat 
did not appear. The number of spectators in¬ 
creased every minute and took part in eager dis¬ 
cussion about the steamer. Finally the boat 
returned but there were no more men in it than 
when it went out. The crew of the steamer did 

163 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


not wish to land. They preferred to wait. The 
ship was a German trawler, homeward bound 
from the fishing banks. It was heavily laden and 
was aground on the outer bar. 

The boat was cleared again and the men lay 
down beside it, prepared for a long watch. As long 
as the trawler was aground with the crew aboard 
they would have to remain on the beach, prepared 
for any emergency. At noon the fog lifted and 
the wind shifted to the northwest. At first it was 
only a moderate breeze but it soon increased and 
rolled big breakers over the bar. They could see 
the trawler now. Suddenly it slid off and floated 
between the second and the third bar. 

“It will soon come ashore,” said the old leader 
who sprang up ready to go out. 

But the trawler began to maneuver and under 
full steam tried to pass over the outer bar. But 
it went aground, backed off again with the help of 
the waves, and then advanced towards the hidden 
sand bar. But this attempt was no more success¬ 
ful than the first one. It went aground, whirled 
about with the prow towards the north, and glided 
back into deep water. It backed again and again 
on the bar. The people on the beach shook their 
heads. They had never seen such a thing before. 
The captain must be mad. 

164 


THE SHIPWRECK 


“I hope he won’t go hard aground out there,” 
the old leader said to the inspector. “We can’t 
reach him there with a rocket and if I know the 
signs it will soon be too rough to put a boat 
out.” 

After a while the leader said: 

“If we only had a man who could speak Ger¬ 
man. We could take him along in spite of the 
rules. Those fellows out there ought to be told 
about the conditions but none of them can under¬ 
stand Danish.” 

“Are you sure it is safe to go out?” the in¬ 
spector asked. The old graybeard nodded. “It 
will be all right if you don’t wait too long.” 

“Would you dare take a child along?” the in¬ 
spector asked. 

“I would dare take all my grandchildren along 
if it were necessary,” the old boatman said. 

“Let’s go to Henrik Lund and ask if he will 
let his boy from Vienna go. He is a fine fellow 
and will be glad to go on a little trip.” 

Henry was more than willing to go but Henrik 
Lund hesitated and not until Mrs. Selmer agreed 
did he consent. 

They launched the boat without difficulty. 
Henry sat in the stern with the leader. At first 
he was not quite sure of himself and when the boat 

165 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


stuck its prow up into the air he felt as if he would 
go over backwards. But he soon discovered that 
there was no danger and laughed with delight at 
each big wave. 

The crew of the trawler kept busy, started a 
new attack and advanced under full steam at a 
point where there was very little surf. The leader 
of the rescue party gave orders for the men to 
rest on their oars and they remained lying with 
the prow towards the sea, keeping the boat in 
position and watching with interest the little 
steamer’s storming of the bar. 

“I think they will clear it,” the old leader said. 

“No, he won’t,” the man at the prow cried. 
“The waves are rising out there. They will reach 
the bar at the same time as the trawler and push 
it back.” 

And that was what happened. Just as the 
trawler reached the bar its bow was buried in 
the great waves. 

“He is crazy I” the old leader cried. “Pull on 
your oarsl” But before they could reach it the 
trawler had dashed off into the water and started 
south between the second and third bar. 

“That’s the craziest fellow I’ve ever gone out 
after,” the old boat leader growled, angrily. 

“Shan’t we help him?” Henry asked. 

i66 


THE SHIPWRECK 


“Yes, but that’s easier said than done. If we 
come alongside they will tip us over. See, that 
loon is going ahead again. He won’t stop before 
he gets in trouble.” 

The trawler continued its antics for a couple of 
hours, and the lifeboat followed it like a whale¬ 
boat hunting a whale. And the storm increased. 

Mads Dyre and Henrik Lund stood on the 
beach and near them was Mrs. Selmer. She looked 
at the boat and was ready to regret that she had 
allowed Henry to go along. It was evidently a 
dangerous trip and he was all that she had. 

“The wind is rising,” Mads Dyre said. “I wish 
we had him ashore.” 

“You are thinking of the boy?” 

“Yes,” said Mads Dyre and his voice shook 
a little. 

“If there is any danger they will bring him in 
and go out again,” Henrik Lund said. “Those 
people know their business.” 

“They do, but the sea can take one by surprise,” 
Mads Dyre said. 

Finally the trawler gave up the struggle and 
drifted in upon the second bar where they went 
aground. In a few minutes the lifeboat lay to 
windward of them and hailed them. 

167 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

“Now they will find Henry useful,’^ Henrik 
Lund said. 

“If they can only get them to leave the ship,” 
Mads Dyre said. “That captain does not seem 
to care much for the land.” 

Mrs. Selmer had come up to Henrik Lund 
and Mads Dyre. She laid her hand on Henrik 
Lund’s arm and pointed out towards the breakers 
that were rolling over the first bar. He under¬ 
stood that she was afraid that the boat would not 
be able to slip through but he smiled comfortingly 
to her and nodded his head. It would be all right. 

“Now they are getting into the boat,” Mads 
Dyre said, and they all drew a sigh of relief. It 
would be fine to get them ashore before dark. 
The wind howled and tossed the sand about. It 
threatened to be a bad night. Many eyes fol¬ 
lowed the boat as it rowed in. Mrs. Selmer 
leaned against Henrik Lund and he felt that she 
was trembling. When the boat got into the surf 
on the inner bar she shrieked but in a few minutes 
it landed safely and all fear was over. 

The boat had brought fifteen men but the cap¬ 
tain had remained on the ship. Henry had acted 
as interpreter and the old leader said that if they 
had not had him along they would never have got 
one man into the boat. 

i68 


THE SHIPWRECK 

“Weren’t you afraid?” Henrik Lund asked 
Henry. 

“Yes, just when we started, but it didn’t last 
long.” 

“I was so afraid for you,” his mother whis¬ 
pered in German. 

But Henry laughed and took her hand. 

“It was such fun, mother, and it was good of 
you to let me go.” 

A couple of hours later Henrik Lund got the 
wet coat Mads Dyre had promised him. The life¬ 
boat was going out after the captain who had 
signaled for help. But the sea was very high and 
drove the lifeboat back. The few spectators that 
remained on the beach offered to help and among 
them was Henrik Lund. Together with three 
others he tied a line about his waist and they 
followed the boat as far as they could touch bot¬ 
tom, helping to keep it headed right. 

The first time they were unsuccessful; the sec¬ 
ond time the boat was cleared and the four men 
reached the beach safely. A great wave rose 
like a roof over the boat, breaking over the occu¬ 
pants. The boat and crew disappeared but the 
boat rose slowly with all the oars on one side 
broken. The men on the beach fetched new oars, 

169 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


and when the boat was ready to put off again the 
old leader said: 

“If we ever get out there I will take that fool 
captain and I think he will get a couple of Danish 
cuffings. He certainly deserves them.” 

Soon the boat returned with the captain of the 
trawler, a little fellow. 

“Did he get his cuffings?” Henrik Lund asked 
the old leader as they walked along together. 

“I thought he was too small to strike,” old 
Niels Kirks said, laughing. 

The following morning the trawler lay high up 
on the beach. A fresh salt wind whistled from 
the northwest and the sea grumbled a hollow 
bass. The waves thundered over new and old 
wrecks. Autumn had come, the season for storms 
and wrecks. But Henry grieved more than ever 
at the prospect of leaving the sea. 


XV 

HOMEWARD BOUND 



OOD-BYI Good-by I” 

“Write, Henry, and let us know 
how you are getting along.” Old 
Mads Dyre, who had come to the farm for the 
final farewells, stood and tucked a rug about 
Henry, at the same time putting a bag into his 
pocket. 

“I’ll be sure to write,” Henry promised. “But 
you must write, too.” His voice was struggling 
against tears and his eyes filled. 

“You will come back next summer,” Mrs. 
Lund said, comfortingly. “And you will be wel¬ 
come. Tell your mother that, Henry.” Mrs. 
Lund had repeated this many times that day but 
Henry translated it for his mother who stretched 
her hand out to Mrs. Lund. Mrs. Lund was not 
going to the station. She preferred to say good-by 
at home. She pressed Mrs. Selmer’s hand. 

Maren stood there, her eyes shifting from 
Henry to his mother. 

171 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Take care that nothing happens to you,” she 
said soberly. “It’s such a terribly long journey. 
But you shan’t go through the negroes’ or lumat- 
toes’ country?” 

“No, we will go through Germany,” Henry 
said, thinking of his first evening when Maren 
tumbled into the tub. 

“Are we all ready?” Henrik Lund asked, crack¬ 
ing his whip so that the two bays began to dance. 

“Wait a moment,” Mrs. Lund said. She had 
suddenly thought of a rug for them to take with 
them. She wrapped it around Mrs. Selmer and 
told Henry that they might keep it. It would 
be a cold journey. 

“Off we go!” said Mr. Lund who knew that 
they could wait a long time before all the fare¬ 
wells were spoken. 

Mads Dyre hurried home. He wanted to go 
to bed; he did not feel well. But Mrs. Lund and 
Maren sat down in the kitchen and for a moment 
did not speak. 

“It was a good thing for Carl that Henry came 
here,” Mrs. Lund finally said. “Carl has grown 
to be quite another boy, he is so full of life.” 

“That he has,” said Maren. 

“He was a fine boy. One could not help loving 
him,” Mrs. Lund said. 


172 


HOMEWARD BOUND 

“Yes, he was a fine boy,” Marcn said, wiping 
her eyes with her apron. 

The final hard moment had come. The train 
was at the station and would leave in five minutes. 

Henry pulled Mr. Lund by the arm. 

“Take me home again,” he begged, “take us 
back home.” 

Mr. Lund bent over him. 

“I cannot, Henry, much as I would like to.” 

“Can’t we ask once more?” 

Mr. Lund shook his head. 

“No, Henry, there is nothing we can do about 
it. But we must arrange to have you come back 
next summer, and your mother too.” 

All around them were other children who were 
just as sorry to leave and many tears were shed 
by children and foster-parents. 

“All aboard!” 

Henry and Carl stood for a few moments shak¬ 
ing hands. Suddenly Henry threw his arms around 
Carl’s neck and hugged him. “It is so hard to say 
good-by,” he complained. “But I’ll come back, 
Carl, if I have to walk all the way.” 

“That boy must get in!” some one called from 
the car and Mr. Lund who had looked after the 
luggage pushed him in and the door was slammed 
to. 


173 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

When the train started Henry and his mother 
waved their hands and wept and they did not stop 
until long after the station was out of sight. 

My sister cried, 

But my brother swore; 

I dried a tear, 

I dried more. 

And then I was calm. 

While the tears went out of the land. 

This verse was spoken by a short, stout gentle¬ 
man, dressed in a long white smock. “Do you 
wish to hear more?” the man in the smock asked. 

Henry did not know what to say, so he an¬ 
swered yes. 

“Do you want to hear more about tears?” 

“No, thank you,” Henry said. 

“All right, we’ll pull out another drawer,” the 
other said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 
“Let me introduce myself: 

I am the train doctor 

And I can cure many diseases. 

If you have any. 

In your arm or your brain, 

Just come to me. 

I have salve for the hands 
And physic for the glands, 

I will help you. 

174 


HOMEWARD BOUND 

I have castor oil of a kind 
That nobody would mind 
I am the doctor 
Who can 

Cure many a man.’’ 

After this introduction the train doctor con¬ 
tinued. 

“This rhyming is too much for one’s head. Let 
us descend from Pegasus and use ordinary prose. 
Tell me, what is you name?” 

“My name is Henry Selmer,” was the reply. 

“Selmer, Selmer. There is a Mrs. Selmer who 
is to be a guide for the children,” said the doctor. 
“Is that lady your mother?” 

When Henry had answered in the affirmative 
the doctor turned to Mrs. Selmer, introducing 
himself, and apologized for not having greeted her 
before. He spoke German correctly and his voice 
sounded almost more jolly in that language. 

“I am going with you to Vienna,” he said. “I 
am the train doctor but for the present I am 
looking after the children from Jutland. We shall 
have about sixty children. At Gedser we shall 
join the Austrians from Zeeland, over five hun¬ 
dred, and go by way of Warnemunde, Berlin, 
Dresden, and down through Czechia. You will 
have your hands full. You will be overwhelmed 

175 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

with questions, possible and impossible, especially 
the latter. These children are great at asking 
questions. It makes one quite dizzy. Have you 
ever slept with one cheek by the side of a beehive 
and the other of an ant hill?” 

“No, I never have,” Mrs. Selmer said, laugh¬ 
ing. “Have you?” 

“No, I have never tried it. But I have had the 
beehive and ant hill in my head, so I can reckon 
out about how it would be. That was on a chil¬ 
dren’s train from Vienna. When they are on their 
way north the children are regular interrogation 
points. They asked so many questions that my 
head fairly hummed and buzzed so that I grew 
quite alarmed. But the feeling gradually passed 
away—it was very queer while it lasted.” 

Mrs. Selmer saw the twinkle in his eyes and 
realized that she and Henry were under treatment 
for the grief of parting. Henry did not think 
anything about it but the doctor’s fresh, friendly 
face made him feel cheerful. 

“Henry, you must be my scout,” the doctor 
said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s all get 
busy and move the heavy baggage into my com¬ 
partment. But we must hurry because a new 
crowd will come at the next station.” 

Mrs. Selmer and Henry were quartered in the 

176 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


doctor’s car where they were very comfortable. 
Mrs. Selmer wished to help Dr. Krarup but he 
declared that she should ride to Gedser as a pas¬ 
senger for he could easily attend to it all himself. 
He received the children, stowed away their pack¬ 
ages, found them beds for the night, comforted 
the sorrowing ones, and put life into the dejected 
ones. From time to time he entertained Mrs. Sel¬ 
mer and Henry and made them forget their grief. 
At ten o’clock he made two comfortable beds for 
them and ordered them to lie down. 

At noon the following day they reached Gedser 
and at three were joined by the rest of the party, 
five hundred strong. At the ferry station the 
children were divided into ten groups, with two 
guides for each group. The wildest confusion 
prevailed when they started to go on board the 
ferryboat. Some of the smaller ones were afraid 
of the water, others had such large packages to 
carry that they feared they would have to leave 
them behind. But they got aboard, packages and 
all, and the big ferryboat was soon ready to start. 

Henry had received orders to keep close to Dr. 
Krarup as his scout and he was quite satisfied with 
his job. He had been introduced to Mrs. Krarup 
who had come from Copenhagen and was to have 

177 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

charge of the kitchen. She had promised to take 
care that he got plenty to eat. 

As the boat sailed out of the dock the doctor 
said: 

“Soon the merman will sing ‘ha I ha I ha!’ and 
‘so! so! so-ah!’ And the children will sing the 
same song. There is a heavy sea and there will 
be many seasick.” 

“Then you will be kept busy,” Mrs. Krarup 
said. 

They spoke German so that Mrs. Selmer might 
join in the conversation. 

“You must have discovered already not to take 
my husband too seriously,” Mrs. Krarup said to 
Mrs. Selmer. “He sometimes says the strangest 
things.” 

As there were several baggage cars on the boat 
there was very little room and it did not help 
matters when the children in the cabin came up 
for fresh air. 

“Now things will start soon,” the doctor said 
to Henry when they reached the bow where the 
motion was the worst. 

“Doctor! Doctor!” cried one of the boys from 
Jutland. Tears ran down his cheeks and he gazed 
beseechingly at Dr. Krarup. “I am so sick. Can’t 
you help me. Doctor?” 


178 


HOMEWARD BOUND 

The youngster had come to Denmark by way 
of Hamburg and as he had never been at sea be¬ 
fore he did not know anything about seasickness. 

“What have you eaten to-day?” he asked. 

“I have had my meals and some cake and three 
apples and some chocolate,” the little fellow 
replied. 

“Is that all?” Dr. Krarup asked. 

“No, I ate five sticks of candy and some loz¬ 
enges and a package of figs.” 

“Is that all?” 

“No, I ate a package of dates and they tasted 
good. But oh! I am so sick. I feel as if my 
stomach would go up into my throat. But it can’t 
do that, can it. Doctor?” 

“Not very well,” Dr. Krarup said. “But with 
that load you have given it to carry it won’t be 
able to run anywhere.” 

“Now it comes!” the boy suddenly exclaimed. 
He was the first to make an offering to Neptune. 

“Now you will feel better,” Dr. Krarup said, 
consolingly, and when the attack was over he gave 
him a piece of sugar with a couple of drops of 
camphor. • 

“Thank you. Doctor, you are so kind,” the 
little patient said. He smiled although the tears 
were running down his cheeks. 

179 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

The ferryboat did not reach Warnemundc until 
seven, and there was general rejoicing as few of 
the children had escaped the prevailing malady. 

A train with twelve cars was waiting for them 
and in the warmth and comfort of their new quar¬ 
ters their troubles were soon forgotten. When tea 
and cakes were served they had regained their 
appetites and by nine they were ready for bed. 

All the way from Warnemundc to Vienna 
Henry acted as Dr. Krarup’s assistant. He 
fetched the patients and brought them back to 
their cars, helped with minor operations, and 
cleaned the instruments, ran errands and enjoyed 
Dr. Krarup’s wealth of humor. When his mother 
was off duty she visited him and he enjoyed those 
hours most of all. 

Henry ate his meals in the kitchen car with the 
guides. He had to wait until the other children 
had finished but he could join in the fun while the 
guides were eating. The kitchen car was a bag¬ 
gage car which had been furnished with a large 
range, a long narrow table on which to make 
sandwiches, and a couple of chairs. Mrs. Krarup 
was in charge assisted by two ladies and they were 
kept busy preparing the meals. 

When the guides came in for their meals the 
car was so full that it was hardly possible to move 

i8o 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


and the motion of the old baggage car made 
eating no easy matter. On the first evening at 
supper while the train was running at full speed 
one of the guides, a teacher, landed in a provision 
box, taking his cup of tea along with him. 

“Pedersen is going to bed,” Dr. Krarup said. 
“We must keep quiet and not disturb him.” 

At the same time Henry had a little accident 
when some one spilled some hot tea down his 
neck. 

“Leave my assistant alone, Hansen!” Dr. 
Krarup exclaimed. “If you want to feed him 
forcibly his mouth is in the front of his face, not 
in the back of his neck.” 

But before the meal was over Dr. Krarup re¬ 
ceived the same treatment. He was standing 
talking with the steward when the train pounded 
through a station. The steward was thrown for¬ 
ward and shoved a piece of food which he was 
about to enjoy right in Dr. Krarup’s mouth. 

“Mother, mother, the doctor is taking my 
food!” Hansen cried. 

“Shall I drink your tea too?” Dr. Krarup 
asked, but the offer was not accepted. 

At eight o’clock that evening the train crossed 
the Elb into Czechia and at Tetschen they had a 

i8l 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

wait of an hour while the officials examined their 
papers. 

“To-morrow we shall be in Vienna, shall we 
not?” Henry asked Dr. Krarup. 

“Yes, if we keep in the right direction,” Dr. 
Krarup answered. 

“If it were only Denmark we were going to,” 
Henry said. 

“Have you already begun to long for Den¬ 
mark?” the doctor asked. 

“Yes, last night I dreamed about Denmark and 
when I woke up it seemed so strange that I was 
not there.” 

“You mus<: be sure to come back,” Dr. Krarup 
said, comforting him. 

“I am afraid not,” Henry said, and his voice 
was quite melancholy. 

“Nonsense, my boy!” the other replied sharply. 
“A boy of your age ought not to go about hang¬ 
ing his head. There are thousands that are much 
worse off than you are. You may lose your cap, 
your jacket and a good many other things, but 
you must guard and keep your courage and your 
good humor. If you lose those you are no good 
at all.” 

Henry looked at Dr. Krarup in amazement. 
He had never heard him talk that way before. He 

182 


HOMEWARD BOUND 

wondered if he were in earnest or if it was only 
an expression of his bubbling wit. 

“You don’t know what to make of my words,” 
Dr. Krarup said, “but I assure you I am in earnest. 
Courage and good humor will carry one far on 
the road of life. They open doors and break 
down walls. They can be a mild breeze but they 
can also be a cleansing wind. They can be sun¬ 
shine, and many need that, most of all in Austria. 
So you must not drown your courage and good 
humor in whimpering and complaining. You must 
laugh when you feel like crying and advance when 
you wish to retreat. Then you can’t fail.” 

Mrs. Selmer appeared in the doorway just in 
time to hear the closing words. 

“The doctor seems to making a speech,” she 
said. “Has Henry been naughty?” 

“No, Mrs. Selmer, I can almost say that the 
Austrian children, in contrast to our own, are 
never naughty. No, I was talking about some¬ 
thing else. When I return home I am going to be 
a public speaker and I was practicing. Demos¬ 
thenes practiced many years. I haven’t patience 
enough for that but I can’t neglect it altogether.” 

“Won’t you let me hear a specimen?” Mrs. 
Selmer asked. 

But the doctor shook his head. 

183 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“No, you must get some sleep. You will be 
on duty again in three hours. The train doctor 
orders you to sleep now.” 

The train dragged slowly through Czechia. 
The locomotive was out of sorts and so were the 
train hands. There was a hot box and another car 
had to be used. Everything looked dark and 
dreary. The children sat and stared listlessly 
out of the windows. Some went back to bed and 
others cried. They all wanted to go back to 
Denmark. 

Suddenly there was a commotion in the first car. 
The doctor came rushing in and his face seemed 
to show that something serious was the matter. 

“Listen!” he cried, stopping in the middle of 
the aisle, “a dangerous sickness has started on the 
train, a contagious sickness. It is called the black 
dogs. You can easily see who have got it for they 
are pale and cross and cranky and tired. You 
must all wash and get dressed. In half an hour I 
shall come back to examine you and those who 
have been attacked by the black dogs must take 
a tablespoonful of castor oil. It is the only med¬ 
icine for that disease. If any of the guides have 
caught it they will get two spoonfuls.” 

Dr. Krarup rushed through all the cars with 
his news and there'was general commotion. Some 

184 


HOMEWARD BOUND 

of the children were frightened, but others under¬ 
stood and passed the word and when the doctor 
returned in half an hour there was not a single 
patient to be found. All faces were cheerful. 

At four o’clock when the train rolled into the 
station at Vienna the platform was crowded with 
people who waved their handkerchiefs and called 
as soon as the train appeared. The children were 
no less eager to greet their friends and relatives. 

As soon as the train stopped two boy scouts 
were assigned to each car to help the Danish 
guides. In a quarter of an hour the cars were 
emptied but the platform seethed with people 
and packages. 

Nobody was more amused at the sight than 
Dr. Krarup. 

“This is great fun,’^ he said, rubbing his hands. 

At that moment a fat little woman rushed up 
to Dr. Krarup, her face fiery red from excite¬ 
ment. 

“Where is my boy?” she cried stopping in front 
of him. “Where is my boy?” 

“Where is your boy?” he exclaimed, with a 
satisfied expression. “We have eaten him.” 

The woman looked at Dr. Krarup for a mo¬ 
ment, then she began to laugh. The boy was soon 
lound and she marched off with him. 

185 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


After a while the platform was emptied, Henry 
and his mother being among the last to leave. 

“Shall we walk home?” asked Henry. 

“No, we have too many packages. We must 
take the street car.” 

“If only we might go back to Denmark to-day,” 
Henry said, sadly. 

“You must not be unreasonable,” his mother 
said. But Henry shook his head. 

“I am not unreasonable, mother, but I long 
so for them all.” 


XVI 


HOME 

D uring the first week after his return 
home Henry had great difficulty in find¬ 
ing himself. At first he felt as if he 
could never be happy again. But after a while, 
to his surprise, joys appeared, stronger and 
warmer than ever before. 

When he met his friends among his schoolmates 
he realized that he had missed them during his 
visit in Denmark and he loved them more now 
than ever before. While he was in Denmark he 
had thought little about them. 

He also noticed that his teacher, Mr. Miin- 
ther, was not indifferent to him. He could hear 
from his happy exclamation when they met at the 
gate that Mr. Miinther was glad to see him again 
and the feeling was mutual. That first day in 
school Henry was happy and the feeling returned 
to him later. But after a while there appeared 
many things that depressed him. 

Joseph Gutmeister was dead and his wife had 

187 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


moved away from Vienna. During the short time 
that Henry had known him he had been a good 
friend and now he was gone. 

To this grief were added many troubles. Their 
landlord had doubled their rent and had threat¬ 
ened to raise it still higher. All prices had risen 
terribly but the pension on which they depended 
for their support had not increased in propor¬ 
tion and neither had the payments for Mrs. Sel- 
mer’s sewing. It was almost impossible to get 
potatoes and turnips even for cash, bread rations 
had been lowered, and it was rumored that all 
grants of provisions would be given up. 

Every day brought new troubles and Mrs. Sel- 
mer shared them all with Henry, who grew 
serious and brooding. Sometimes he longed to be 
back in Denmark, at others he wished he was 
grown up. He felt that they could not exist under 
present conditions. 

Then Henry’s mother was taken sick and was 
confined to bed. 

“It will soon pass over,” she said to comfort 
him. But the next day she was no better. 

“I will call a doctor,” Henry said, but his 
mother dissuaded him. It cost so much and they 
would have to buy medicine. She assured him 
that she would soon be well. It was only a slight 

i88 


HOME 


cold and she always had fever when she caught 
cold. 

After Henry had waited a week without any 
improvement he sent for the doctor without asking 
his mother. The doctor said that it was rheumatic 
fever and scolded because they had not sent for 
him before. The attack would last a month dur¬ 
ing which time she would have to lie undisturbed. 

On hearing the doctor’s verdict Mrs. Selmer 
wept. Her sickness was a real calamity, for she 
could not earn anything and they would starve. 
Now she too longed for Denmark but she did 
not say anything for fear of increasing Henry’s 
longing. 

Henry had his hands full. He went to school 
as usual every morning while a neighbor looked 
after his mother. After school he took care of 
the house, swept, swabbed the floor, brought fuel 
and made purchases. The last duty was the most 
difficult of all for they had so little money and 
many articles could be bought only in the morning. 
At times he went out into the country to buy pro¬ 
visions but he did not enjoy this because he was 
often chased away from the farmers’ houses. 

After all his duties had been attended to he 
sat down by his mother’s bed and they talked, 
mostly of the time in Denmark, the wonderland, 

189 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


where there was plenty to eat and where there 
were kind people. But an undercurrent of sad¬ 
ness ran through their talk for it was filled with 
longing. 

November had come and Mrs. Selmer was no 
better. She was still confined to bed and the 
doctor declared that she might not be able to get 
up before July. Henry was in despair. They did 
not have money enough and besides they had not 
heard from Denmark. 

“I am going to try to sell matches on the street,” 
Henry said one evening while he sat and talked 
with his mother. “So many boys do it.” 

“No, Henry, I do not like the idea,” his mother 
said. “It is not good for you to wander about 
the streets. I shall soon be well again and then 
it will be all right.” 

“I could stop when you were well,” Henry sug¬ 
gested. But his mother shook her head. 

“You must not think of doing that. If we could 
only get a few potatoes once in a while. They are 
cheap and filling. But you can’t get to market 
early enough when you go to school. It would be 
fine to have a few potatoes.” 

“I have heard that there is a place on Maria- 
Hilferstrasse where they have plenty of potatoes. 

190 


HOME 


I will go there to-morrow. It is Friday and it 
will not matter if I am a little late at school.” 

“Yes, try that,” his mother said. “But be 
careful. There are sometimes fights at the potato 
shops.” 

“Oh! there’s no danger; the police will keep 
order,” Henry told her. As a matter of fact he 
was not as confident as he pretended to be. He 
had several times got hard knocks on such trips 
and often he had returned with an empty basket 
after waiting several hours. 

“When will you go?” his mother asked. 

“I will go at five, so as to get in the front row.” 

“That is very early and you will be cold,” his 
mother complained. 

“I’m never cold,” he declared, laughing. “You 
can look for me at nine, mother, and we’ll have 
potatoes for dinner.” 

“Don’t be too sure,” his mother warned him. 
But Henry nodded vigorously to show his assur¬ 
ance. “It will be all right if I wake up. But you 
must help me.” 

His mother promised to help him but she was 
sound asleep when he crept out of bed at four 
o’clock and left her. She was making up for lost 
time for she had not slept the two preceding 
nights. 

191 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


When Henry went out on to the sidewalk he 
felt like turning back. It was pitch dark and he 
thought he heard footsteps, first on one side, then 
on the other. He had to use his imagination to 
overcome the fear that oppressed him. He was 
a courier carrying important papers. The fate of 
his country was at stake. No, he was in Denmark 
and the Danish king had entrusted important doc¬ 
uments to him, which he must deliver safely. The 
country was attacked by the enemy, but many 
Austrians, he among them, had hastened to her 
assistance. He had to go through the enemy’s 
country. It was a dangerous commission but the 
greater the danger the greater the honor. He 
would let the king see that the papers came into 
the right hands. 

Henry hastened off through the dark, empty 
streets. He was in Denmark and Carl was with 
him. He had insisted on his company. But as 
soon as he thought of Carl he forgot his duties 
as courier. He recalled the happy days at Kjaer- 
holm and wondered why they had not heard from 
Denmark. He had written that his mother was 
sick. They must have received the letter a month 
ago. Perhaps there would be a package when he 
came home. 

As Henry approached Maria-Hilferstrasse the 

192 


HOME 


dark streets grew more lively. Men, women and 
children hurried along, most of them carrying 
baskets. Some of them carried bundles to ex¬ 
change with the peasants for food. When he 
reached the shop there were already a number 
of people ahead of him. Henry found a place to 
sit down on the lowest step. He put his basket 
between his legs, raised his coat collar, stuck his 
hands in his pockets, and began to whistle softly 
“The Time I Marched Away.” Carl had taught 
him this Danish soldier song and he knew all the 
verses by heart. 

“Have you been in Denmark?” a little, thinly 
clad boy by his side asked him. 

“Yes,” said Henry, “have you?” 

“I have been there twice. It is beautiful in 
Denmark, don’t you think so?” 

“I should say it is. I lived near the ocean. 
I saw a wreck and I went out in the lifeboat.” 

“I have never seen the ocean,” the little half- 
frozen fellow said. “I lived in a great forest. 
There were many trees and there were flowers in 
the forest. I ran about there every day and saw 
deer and ravens. It was near a town called 
Soro.” 

“I lived at a big farm,” Henry said. “They 
had lots of animals there, horses and cows. I 

193 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

could have all the milk to drink I wanted and they 
had regular mountains of potatoes. If I might 
only go there again.” 

“I shall never go to Denmark again.” 

“Why.not?” asked Henry. 

His little companion was silent for a moment 
and then he said very quietly: 

“I am sick. The doctor says I can’t live much 
longer. Mother says it is not so hard to die and 
when I am dead I shall be all right. There is no 
war in heaven and nobody is hungry. I shall meet 
father up there. He fell in Russia.” 

“My father fell in the War, too,” Henry said. 
He thought that might comfort the other a little. 

They sat for a while without speaking. All 
around them was a mass of people, each one trying 
to get a better position in the line. It was still 
dark and it would be a long time before the shop 
was opened. 

Henry saw that his little comrade had no over¬ 
coat and he took off his coat and wrapped him 
in it. 

“You are so kind,” he said, gratefully. 

“No, I am not cold. I have warm under¬ 
clothes,” said Henry. “You may keep it until we 
are through here.” 

They continued to make the time pass quickly 

194 


HOME 


by telling about their experiences in Denmark. 
The little fellow was named Stephen and he was 
eight years old. He could not remember his 
father, who had been a merchant, but he had once 
seen his old store. He had had a brother and 
a sister but they were both dead. 

Henry was about to tell him about his mother 
and his home when a commotion arose. Angry 
words and oaths sounded and some of the men 
began to use their fists. 

“Let us break into the shop,” some one cried. 
“Why should we stand here and freeze? Let’s 
help ourselves and get it cheaper. We won’t wait 
any longer. Food for our wives and children I” 

Some ran away, others pressed forward and 
there were loud cries from the women and chil¬ 
dren. Henry and Stephen kept their places for 
they were afraid to move. The fierce cries of the 
mob continued. 

Suddenly a policeman appeared on the top step 
of the stone stairway. He raised his hand for 
silence and cried out: 

“Be sensible. If you help yourselves every¬ 
thing will soon be taken and there will be nothing 
left for the rest of you.” 

“Down with him!” resounded the voices of 

195 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


the mob. “He is one of those that brought us 
into the War!” 

But the policeman spoke again with indigna¬ 
tion: 

“Where were you when we marched against 
Serbia? You cried hurrah and sang together in 
praise of the War. I know most of you and I am 
telling the truth. Now you must bear the curses 
of the War and learn a lesson from them. All 
who sang and cried hurrah at that time should be 
quiet now.” 

“Down with him, down with him!” they 
shouted. “Knock him down like a dog; he is mock- 
mg us! 

A heavy stone came hurtling over the heads of 
the bystanders and struck the policeman on the 
head and he fell down. At the same time a num¬ 
ber of automobiles rushed up and a warning shot 
was fired. In a moment everybody fled. The 
strong knocked down the weak; men trampled 
over women and children in their frantic efforts 
to escape. 

When Henry saw the policeman fall he seized 
hold of Stephen and tried to force his way through 
the crowd. But they were submerged in the ava¬ 
lanche of fugitives. Stephen fell. Henry tried 
to lift him to his feet but was thrown aside and 

196 


HOME 


fell himself. When he got up he tried to run back 
but he was borne along by the stream of people 
to a side street. He wished to return but he was 
so dazed that he could not move. Henry sat for 
a long time not knowing what to do. He had lost 
his coat and basket and he had no potatoes. The 
worst of all was the uncertainty about Stephen. 

When he finally returned to Maria-Hilfer- 
strasse everything was quiet again. In front of 
the shop were many soldiers and policemen. He 
was stopped before he had reached the shop and 
ordered back. He asked about Stephen, but the 
soldier did not know anything about him. Some 
people had been taken to the hospital but he did 
not know who they were. He advised Henry to 
hurry home. 

When Henry came home he told his mother of 
his experiences. She listened with terror but when 
she noticed his anxiety about the strange little boy 
she tried to console him. 

“He has probably got home safely,” she said. 
“You have his address. You can go to see him 
to-morrow and get your coat.” 


XVII 


STEPHEN’S DEATH 

^ H HE next morning at school Henry could 

I not collect his thoughts. In the arithmetic 
lesson he did only one sum, his dictation 
was full of mistakes, and during the history lesson 
he hardly realized what they were talking about. 
All the time his thoughts were with Stephen. He 
wished to free himself from blame and the more 
he thought about it the more certain he became 
that there was nothing he could have done to help 
him. 

Mr. Munther noticed that Henry was listless 
but did not disturb him. Every day some of the 
children were that way but he overlooked it. In 
almost every home there was sickness; poverty 
and misery sat at every table. He could not help 
them but he could close his eyes and keep quiet. 

As soon as Henry was dismissed he hurried 
home. When he stood by his mother’s bed he 
saw that something had happened. 

“Is there a letter from Denmark?” he asked. 

198 



STEPHEN’S DEATH 


But when his mother said no he had a feeling that 
there was something the matter with Stephen. 

“There is a message from Stephen’s mother 
asking you to come there,” his mother said. “He 
has been talking about you almost all night. The 
doctor says he cannot live long.” 

“Was he struck?” Henry asked, gasping for 
breath. 

“I don’t know, Henry,” his mother said. “But 
you had better run right around there. If you 
are hungry you can take a piece of bread with 
you.” 

Henry had no difficulty in finding his way but 
when he reached the garret he found three doors 
and he did not know which was the right one. 
Then he heard Stephen’s voice: 

“Mother, he must come now. I have waited so 
long. Why doesn’t he come?” 

He heard footsteps cross the floor and the 
middle door opened. Before him stood a tall, 
very thin woman. She did not speak but beckoned 
to him and he entered a small room, the only furni¬ 
ture of which was a narrow cot by the window. 

Henry remained standing near the door but 
Stephen called to him: 

“Come here. I have been waiting for you all 
day. I am glad to see you.” 

199 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


When Henry saw Stephen’s pale face and ob¬ 
served the rags with which he was covered he could 
not force a w'ord through his lips. 

‘‘Don’t you remember me?” Stephen asked. “I 
feel all right now; it doesn’t hurt any more. But 
I have been waiting so long for you.” 

“Did they strike you?” Henry asked. 

“No, but they trampled on me and I couldn’t 
get up. But it doesn’t hurt any more. I’m all 
right now.” 

Stephen’s thin little hand fumbled over a ragged 
sack. He stretched it out towards Henry and 
said: 

“Sit down. We have no chairs but you can sit 
on my bed. And now tell me about Denmark. 
We had such a good time yesterday, didn’t we? 
Won’t you come every day as long as I am in bed 
and tell me about Denmark? It makes me feel 
as if I were there to hear you talk.” 

Henry sat down on the edge of the bed. He 
wanted to take Stephen’s hand but the presence 
of his mother embarrassed him. But when she 
spoke to him all his embarrassment disappeared 
and he felt as if they were old friends. 

“Thank you for coming. Stephen has been 
calling for you all night,” she said. “Can’t you 
stay here a little while? I will go out and try 

200 


STEPHEN’S DEATH 


to get a little wine. He can’t eat anything and he 
is so weak.” 

Henry promised to stay and she thanked him 
warmly. After she had gone Stephen said: 

“You are so kind. Now tell me something 
about Denmark. Tell me everything you can re¬ 
member and to-morrow I will tell you. I am so 
tired to-day.” 

Henry told about Kjaerholm and the people 
there, about Carl who at first had not liked him 
but who afterwards had become his best friend. 
He told about the boat trips with Mads Dyre, the 
white cat, Pussy, and Strut, the hen, and about the 
bull which the gang had taken out of his stall. He 
told about the flat white beach that stretched so 
far north and south and about the ocean which 
was sometimes as still as a lake and at other times 
so wild that no one could go down to the beach. 
But Stephen had never seen the ocean and it all 
seemed strange to him. 

“Can’t you tell me something about the forest 
and the high trees?” he asked. “There was no 
beach where I was but there was a great forest 
and it was so beautiful. Can’t you tell about 
the forest? My foster father was a forester and 
he knew so much about trees, what their names 


201 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

were and how old they were. And about some of 
them he could tell stories.” 

Henry shook his head. • There were no woods 
where he had been and the few trees there were 
dwarfed and almost leafless. 

“Tell about the forest and the trees,” Stephen 
begged. His cheeks were flushed and he gasped 
for breath. But his eyes were bright with 
expectation. 

“I cannot,” Henry said, cautiously taking hold 
of Stephen’s thin hand. But at that moment he 
came to think of the wonder tale of the fir tree. 
Mr. Miinther had read it to them once and he 
had often read it himself in Denmark for it was 
a Danish story, written by the children’s poet, 
Hans Christian Andersen. He could tell that and 
Stephen would enjoy it. 

And Henry told about the little fir tree in the 
beautiful big forest, about its ambitions and long¬ 
ings, about the hare that jumped over it and the 
little peasant children who sat about it and strung 
strawberries on straws. He remembered many 
details for he was a clever story-teller, and 
Stephen’s happy grateful eyes increased his con¬ 
fidence. 

When Henry had finished there was a moment’s 


202 


STEPHEN’S DEATH 

silence in the little room. Then Stephen 
whispered: 

“That was a beautiful story about the woods 
and the tree. It was almost as if I had been in 
Denmark. You must tell me that story again 
before you go.” 

“I’ll be glad to,” Henry promised. “I will 
come again to-morrow and tell it to you then.” 

“Thank you, you are so kind,” Stephen said, 
lying back and closing his eyes. 

“I will sleep until mother comes back,” he whis¬ 
pered. “I will dream about the little fir tree and 
you must not call me until mother comes.” 

When Stephen’s mother came back half an hour 
later Henry raised his hand warningly. 

“He is asleep,” he whispered. “He has been 
asleep for a long time.” 

She went cautiously over to the bed and bent 
down over Stephen. She stood as if she were 
listening. 

“He is dead, my boy,” she said quietly. “But 
it is best. He will not be hungry any more.” 

Henry had no recollection of how he left the 
room and got home. But wTen he stood by his 
mother’s sick bed he was filled with terror lest she 
too should die. How could he get her food? 

203 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Why should she be hungry? She had done no 
wrong; she was the best mother in the world. But 
neither had Stephen done any wrong. He did 
not understand it but his terror did not forsake 
him. 


XVIII 


BEGGARS 


W INTER had come to Vienna. The cold 
descended from the mountains and 
penetrated the houses. Only the rich 
could afford to buy fuel to keep it out. Stoves 
were cold in thousands of homes and their people 
tried to warm themselves with bedclothes, over¬ 
coats, rags and paper. But many, especially 
children, succumbed. 

Cold and hunger joined hands and threatened 
to destroy the beautiful gay city on the blue 
Danube. The younger children cried all day and 
every day. But many older children learned that 
weeping and complaining did not help matters. 
All the crying in the world would not fill an empty 
cupboard. In desperation they wandered about 
the streets on the lookout for stray crowns to be 
gained either by working or by begging. The 
many foreigners in the city gave generously. 
Some of the children sold matches instead of beg¬ 
ging but at twenty Austrian crowns a box they did 
not earn much. 


205 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

Some of the small street merchants and beggars 
were homeless, many were War orphans, others 
had been driven from home because there were 
too many mouths to fill. During the summer 
they spent the nights in the parks or in sheds or 
hallways but it was harder for them to find shelter 
in winter. Many of them went to lodging houses 
for the homeless, dingy houses in narrow streets, 
and their grown-up companions concealed them 
from the landlords and the police. 

At one time there were articles in the news¬ 
papers about the vagabond children and the ques¬ 
tion was discussed at a meeting of the city council. 

‘‘What do you want?” cried a well-known physi¬ 
cian, addressing the reporters. “Do you want 
the children to lie down in a corner at home and 
wait for starvation? You write that they run 
wild and are without elevating influences. If 
they begged for money to buy candy and for 
amusements you would be quite right. But for 
most of them it is a matter of life and death. 
These little beggars are undergoing a harder dis¬ 
cipline than any of us had. Our children are living 
in a terrible time. Many of them see nothing 
but poverty and distress and these are increasing 
every month. We have tried to help them but 
we can do little, for our money has slight value. 

206 


BEGGARS 


We have had to close a third of our food stations. 
But the worst of it all is that the Americans, 
Danes, Hollanders, and all the other foreign na¬ 
tions that have helped us are growing tired of it 
for the task seems endless and hopeless. 

“Many of our children are going to the dogs, 
but let us not condemn those who are ready to 
struggle on to the last. We owe them rather a 
prayer that they may clear away the many obsta¬ 
cles and grow up into the youth and manhood that 
will carry our poor country to a better day.” 

The speech aroused attention and many papers 
published editorials in support of it. But the 
number of beggars increased and gangs of larger 
boys were formed that often came in conflict with 
the police. But even these were not attacked by 
the newspapers. They did not attempt to defend 
them but neither did they criticize them. They 
realized that it was a fight for life against hunger 
and cold. 

One day Henry stood in front of the Hotel 
Bristol. He had no overcoat and he was cold but 
he did not move. He stood and looked at the 
passers-by as if he were waiting for somebody. 
Presently a lady and gentleman, both in fur coats, 
approached. Henry took off his cap, stretched 
out his hand and said, “Please!” That was all he 

207 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


said but his big black eyes told the rest and the 
lady whispered something to her companion. The 
gentleman put his hand into his pocket and took 
out a bundle of bills of a thousand crowns and 
less. He selected one and gave it to Henry. It 
was a ten-crown bill. Henry made a deep bow 
and thanked him. The lady gave him a friendly 
smile but the gentleman went on without showing 
the slightest interest. 

Henry stuck the bill in his pocket—it was the 
first one. He had stood a whole hour before he 
could muster courage to make the attempt. He 
stamped on the ground. He had on his old shoes 
and they were thin. But he was contented as 
long as he could bring home some money. 

Suddenly a ragged little fellow came up. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, angrily. 
“This is our place. There are five of us and 
there is no room for any more.” 

Henry looked at the protesting youngster who 
was without a cap and who wore a thin summer 
jacket. His feet were bound with a cloth. 

“I have just as much right here as anybody,” 
Henry said, quietly. He was not so sure of his 
ground as he seemed for he realized that the little 
fellow was in greater need than he was. 

“You are not poor enough to beg,” the other 

208 


BEGGARS 


laughed, scornfully. “Go home and eat cakes! 
This is no place for rich people.” 

Henry saw that his competitor had the advan¬ 
tage over him. He was an expert beggar and his 
clothes spoke more eloquently than Henry’s. He 
hastened down the street. He must find another 
place. He must earn some money. Christmas 
was near and they had hardly enough money for 
dry bread. 

He stopped in front of one of the banks and 
examined his surroundings. There was only an 
old woman who was selling matches and it looked 
safe. 

It was hard for Henry to get started. He was 
afraid he would meet some acquaintances. He 
looked all around as if he were about to steal 
and then put out his hand. 

“Please!” There was no result and another 
attempt was equally unsuccessful. After the first 
few small bills he grew bolder. He worked until 
it grew dark, when he turned into a side street and 
by the light of a street lamp counted his earnings. 
There were two hundred and seventy-six crowns. 
It was not much, not enough to buy two pounds 
of flour. He had hoped for better results but he 
was happy over what he had. The only difficulty 
now was to explain to his mother how he had 

209 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

earned the money. He could not tell her that he 
had been begging. What could he do? He 
would have to lie. 

In spite of the cold Henry’s cheeks burned with 
shame. He dreaded the moment when he would 
have to look his mother in the eye and lie. He 
had never lied to his mother. There had never 
been any occasion for it, for he had been able to 
tell her everything. She had always understood 
him. But he could not tell her that he had been 
begging, especially now when she was sick. 

Henry was not familiar with this part of the 
city and he soon lost his way. After he had walked 
about for an hour he thought of taking a street 
car but he quickly decided that it would cost too 
much. They needed all the money at home. 

Suddenly a church appeared and he recognized 
it as St. Stephen’s Cathedral. He and his mother 
had often attended mass there. He went in. He 
had reached a decision. But when he was in the 
great interior he became confused. Many candles 
were burning, both on the high altar and on the 
side altars. He bowed his head, crossed himself 
and went up towards the high altar and found a 
place by the side of an old man who was about 
to light a candle with trembling hands. 

It occurred to Henry that he had no candle 


210 


BEGGARS 


and that perhaps his effort was useless. He did 
not know what prayer to use but after he had 
folded his hands he gazed at St. Stephen’s face 
with its expression of pain. No prayer crossed 
his lips but he looked at the suffering martyr 
and recalled all his sufferings. It was not easy 
to pray for leave to lie. 

Then he recollected that he must hasten home 
and he hurried out of the church. He had some 
difficulty in finding his way but at last he reached 
his own neighborhood and climbed the steep stairs 
to his home. He had formed a plan for ex¬ 
plaining himself to his mother but he was still 
anxious. 

“Where have you been, Henry?” his mother 
asked, as soon as he entered. She was sitting 
up in bed and in spite of the feeble light of the 
tallow candle Henry saw that she was alarmed. 

“I have ... do you know, mother, I have. 
. . . Here are two hundred and seventy-six 
crowns that I have earned.” Henry stood by the 
bed but he took care to keep his face in the shadow. 

“Two hundred and seventy-six crowns I Where 
did you earn it?” his mother asked, taking the 
money. 

Henry’s eyes began to waver but he saw that 
his mother trusted him. 


2II 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“I have been selling matches,” he said. “I 
went to a dealer and he gave me some to sell 
and ... I sold them.” 

“But I can’t understand that, Henry. How 
much do you make on a box?” She looked keenly 
at him but he did not waver. He knew how much 
could be made selling matches. 

“I make two crowns. But some people give 
tips. One gentleman gave me a hundred crowns.” 

“Wasn’t it cold, Henry?” his mother asked. 
But Henry shook his head. He knew that he was 
over the worst of it now. “No, mother, it wasn’t 
cold,” he assured her. “I ran back and forth and 
it was such fun. May I go again to-morrow 
right after school?” 

Mrs. Selmer stroked his hand affectionately 
and he felt the blood rush into his cheeks and he 
cast his eyes down. 

“Henry,” Mrs. Selmer said, struggling with 
tears. “I had never supposed that we should de¬ 
scend so low that you would have to sell matches 
on the street. Poor boy I But I must let you 
do it. You may sell matches until I am well 
again but not longer. Then I will work until late 
at night and we will make out. But you must wear 
your overcoat to-morrow.” 

Henry realized that the danger was over and 


212 


BEGGARS 


he was happy but the blush of shame was still on 
his cheeks. He had lied to his mother for the 
first time in his life and he would have to keep 
it up for some time. He kissed her and got up to 
light the little spirit lamp to make her a cup of 
tea. 

After the tea was drunk Henry began to talk 
about what occupied his thoughts all the time. 

“Don’t you think we shall soon get a letter from 
Denmark? We have written three times. Mads 
Dyre promised to write, too, and to send a big 
codfish.” 

“There will be a letter some day,” his mother 
said. “They wrote that they would send a letter 
every week and occasionally some money. They 
have not forgotten us, Henry. Perhaps we shall 
get a letter to-morrow.” 

“We haven’t heard for four weeks,” Henry 
said, “and Mads Dyre has not written at all.” 

“He is an old man,” Mrs. Selmer said. “You 
must not forget that. Old people do not move 
quickly.” 

“Do you think we shall ever go to Denmark 
again?” Henry asked. “May I go to the Hof- 
burg soon and speak to them about it?” 

“There are no trains in the winter,” Mrs. Sel¬ 
mer said. “But perhaps you may go in the spring. 

213 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

I shall never go there again but that does not 
matter.” 

Henry sat and stared into the flickering flame 
of the candle and for a moment he forgot the 
cold in the many bright memories. Every day 
they came and warmed him but afterwards it 
seemed darker and colder and emptier than ever. 

“You had better go to bed, Henry,” his mother 
said. “You will be cold. To-morrow we can 
buy a little kindling and coal. It is a week since 
we have had a fire.” 

As Henry began to undress he felt the cold in 
his shoulder blades and his feet. But it was warm 
in bed and as he wrapped the blankets around 
him his body absorbed the delicious warmth and 
he was soon thawed out and ready for a final 
chat with his mother. 

“It would be nice,” his mother suggested, “to 
invite Carl and his parents to visit us in Vienna 
and show them all the beautiful places here. But 
that can never be.” 

“We should have to have a larger apartment,” 
he said, quietly, “at least one more room. But 
we’ll get that when I am grown up and can earn 
money. And we’ll invite them. Mads Dyre and all 
the rest.” 

Henry grew quite excited and they talked for a 

214 


BEGGARS 


long time about how everything should be ar¬ 
ranged and what their guests should see. Henry 
convinced himself finally that that day would 
surely come. Mrs. Selmer was less certain but 
she saw that their castles in Spain pleased Henry 
and she joined heartily in the building plans. 

Finally Mrs. Selmer grew tired and fell asleep 
but Henry continued to form plans until his 
thoughts returned to the present. He decided 
to cut school and begin begging early in the morn¬ 
ing, just for one day. He was doing well in his 
studies and Mr. Miinther would not mind. Per¬ 
haps he could earn a thousand crowns. 

Then Henry snuggled in bed ready to sleep. 
He had come to like the long nights which he 
often spent in Denmark. 


XIX 


THE TRUANT 


H enry begged every day and earned 
money for food and rent. But day by 
day he grew more and more disgusted and 
at last he had only one wish, that his mother 
might get well so that he could stay home and 
give up begging. He had hoped that he would 
grow accustomed to it after a while but he could 
not acquire the necessary boldness. He was 
tongue-tied and was easily frightened by a cross 
face. Moreover, his clothes were too good, for, 
although they were old and thin, they were clean 
and neatly patched. He never wore his overcoat 
while begging but hid it in the cellar no matter 
how cold it was. That was another deception and 
when his mother expressed her joy that he had 
his warm coat for the cold walks he turned away. 
He spoke as little as possible about his work but 
when his mother advised him to give up his busi¬ 
ness on account of his cough he eagerly assured 
her that he would stop as soon as she was well but 
not before. 


216 


THE TRUANT 


On the streets Henry found both friends and 
enemies. But more enemies than friends. The 
keen competition easily led to quarrels. How¬ 
ever, Henry did make friends with a veteran who 
sat at the bottom of the main entrance to the opera 
house. He had lost both legs above the knees and 
he sat on a bundle of sacks and stretched out his 
hand and cried, “Bitte, bitte!” 

Henry had been driven from his place by two 
big boys and was obliged to find another corner. 
He was in a bad humor for he had earned very 
little and was racked by a severe cough. When 
he came to the front of the opera house and saw 
that there was nobody there except the old vet¬ 
eran he decided to stay. From time to time he 
glanced at the veteran who spoke to him in a 
friendly voice and asked him many questions. At 
last Henry sat down beside him and engaged in 
a pleasant chat. Henry described his sick mother, 
his troubles on the street, and his visit to Denmark 
where nobody was hungry. The veteran in turn 
told about himself. He had five children for 
whom he had to get food. His wife brought him 
back and forth and she worked like a horse when¬ 
ever she could get anything to do. Sometimes she 
begged, too, but not successfully. 

Henry and the old veteran parted that evening 

217 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

as friends and they had many a chat together later. 
Henry, however, did not return to the opera 
house square to beg, for he did not wish to inter¬ 
fere with his new friend. 

One day Henry was attacked by five boys, for¬ 
mer competitors, who stole his money and beat 
him. His only thought was to protect his face 
so that his mother might not see what had hap¬ 
pened. He could not get up for some time after 
they had left him and he felt as if every bone in 
his body were broken. 

That evening it was hard to conceal matters 
from his mother. In order to explain why he had 
no money, he said that the merchant had de¬ 
manded payment for the matches in advance 
because some of the boys had cheated him. He 
pretended to fall asleep as soon as he came to bed 
but he lay awake all night burning with fever. 
Never before had he longed so for Denmark as 
that night. 

Henry’s chief fear was that he might meet one 
of his teachers and it was not long before this 
fear was realized. One Sunday morning he found 
a vacant place. He worked hard encouraged by 
the hope that his mother would soon be well 
again and that he could give up his hateful 
occupation. 


218 


THE TRUANT 


“Bitte, bitte r 

He stemmed the stream of passers-by and was 
unusually successful. It was the Sunday before 
Christmas and people were more than usually 
kind-hearted. Suddenly he felt a hand on his 
shoulder and when he turned around he faced his 
teacher, Mr. Miinther, the teacher he loved and 
almost worshiped as a god and whom he was most 
anxious to avoid. Henry’s cheeks turned scarlet 
and if Mr. Miinther had not seized hold of him 
he would have fallen. 

“Come, Henry,” Mr. Miinther said, “I was just 
going into a restaurant for a cup of coffee. You 
won’t object to drinking a cup with me, will you?” 
Mr. Munther drew Henry after him and entered 
a small restaurant and they found a room free 
from other customers. 

“Sit down on the sofa,” Mr. Miinther said, tak¬ 
ing a chair with its back to the gray daylight. 
Henry obeyed without looking up. His eyes were 
concealed by the long, dark lashes. He had 
always before looked frankly at Mr. Miinther but 
to-day he could not. 

Mr. Miinther did not break the silence until 
after the coffee had been served and they were 
alone again. He placed his hand over Henry’s 
and said quietly: 


219 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“My poor boy, you need not look down. You 
have nothing to be ashamed of. I know that life 
is at stake. It will make no difference with me 
and I shall love you as much as ever.” 

Henry felt like crying but he kept back the 
tears. 

“Were you begging on those three mornings 
when you were out of school?” Mr. Miinther 
asked. He spoke more like a friend than a teacher 
and Henry nodded. 

Mr. Miinther knew what hunger was from ex¬ 
perience—his salary was small and his family 
large. Like all salaried men he knew the bitter¬ 
ness that accompanied the struggle of getting 
through the years during and after the War. 

“Understand me, Henry,” he said. “I invited 
you in here because I wished to talk with you and 
learn how you were getting along at home. I did 
not wish to judge you. If there is nothing else 
for you to do, then continue with your begging. 
I am sure you will stop when it is no longer neces¬ 
sary. If you have to stay from school occasionally 
I will close my eyes for I know that I can depend 
upon you.” 

Henry’s head sank lower and lower while Mr. 
Miinther was speaking, finally he could not re¬ 
strain himself any longer and began to cry. The 


220 


THE TRUANT 

coffee remained untouched and Mr. Miinther sat 
deep in thought. Everything seemed to him so 
hopeless, and where was the dawn of a better day? 
Here was one of his best scholars, a boy from a 
good home, and now he was a beggar. Nor was 
he the only one—there were many others. 

During this period of starvation the influence 
of the school faded and many of the children suc¬ 
cumbed to cold and hunger or the temptations of 
the street. 

Mr. Munther sat for a long time gazing out in 
the dim room. He wished to comfort Henry but 
he did not know what to say. He recalled him 
on the day he said farewell before going to Den¬ 
mark. Then, only nine months ago, there had 
been color in his cheeks and a smile on his lips. 

“Henry, have you heard from Denmark re¬ 
cently?” Mr. Munther asked, breaking the silence. 

“No, not for a month,” Henry replied, for the 
first time looking at Mr. Munther. “I am afraid 
they have forgotten us. Mr. Lund is so busy and 
so is Mrs. Lund.” 

“Forgotten you! No, Henry, I do not believe 
that. But it is a long way between Denmark and 
Austria. Maybe a letter or a package has been 
lost. That has happened before. You ought to 
write to Denmark.” 


221 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“We have had two letters since we came home,’* 
Henry said, “and there was money in each of them. 
Each time we wrote and thanked them. The last 
time they wrote that they would send a package 
but it never came. And there was a fisherman 
named Mads Dyre. He said he would send a big 
codfish but it never came. I should not mind so 
much about the packages if they would only write. 
I want so much to hear how they all are. It would 
be almost as if I were there again.” 

Henry had spoken eagerly. The thought of 
Denmark had begun sorrowfully but it ended in 
joy, and while they drank the cold coffee he told 
of his experiences in the wonderland of the west 
coast. Once started, Henry hurried from one 
story to another and Mr. Munther by timely ques¬ 
tions encouraged him to continue. 

Finally Mr. Munther laid his hand on Henry’s 
hand and said: 

“We must go now. I promised to come home 
right away but when I saw your frightened face 
I felt that I must have a chat with you. In the 
coming days I shall think of you and I may be 
able to find some means of helping you. But you 
must not be too confident. There are so many 
to be helped and so few helpers.” 

When Henry came home he did not mention 


222 


THE TRUANT 


having met Mr. Miinther. It had suddenly oc¬ 
curred to him that Mr. Miinther might come to 
see them and that both he and his mother would 
learn that he had lied. He was quieter than 
usual that evening. His joy had given place to 
anxiety and he lay awake many hours, his mind 
filled with troubled thoughts. He tried to excuse 
himself but his conscience would not allow him 
this comfort. 

On Christmas Eve his mother felt strong 
enough to be up all day and Henry stayed home. 
But the Christmas spirit was lacking; there were 
too many worries and they had not heard from 
Denmark. 

At New Year’s after the rent had been paid, all 
of Henry’s earnings had been spent. Henry could 
not bring himself to start begging again. He 
wished that he might get a job as a delivery boy 
but most of these positions gave only meals and 
there was great competition for them. 


XX 


THE ARREST 

T he new year gave promise of no improve¬ 
ment over the old one. Prices of every¬ 
thing rose rapidly and food and fuel al¬ 
lowances were withdrawn. The government was 
no longer able to pay for them and everybody 
was left to shift for himself. 

Soon after the beginning of the new year Mrs. 
Selmer returned to her sewing but she was easily 
tired and could no longer work at night. Her 
employer threatened to discharge her but was 
persuaded to allow her to continue. She earned 
only half as much as formerly. 

What worried her even more than the hard 
times and the effects of her illness was Henry’s 
changed behavior. His former gentleness and 
gayety had given place to a sullen reserve and 
he spoke scarcely a word. She wondered if he 
were suffering from the hard times or from his 
longing for Denmark and his friends there. For 
his sake she hoped that they would soon hear 
from Denmark. She had very little hope but 

224 


THE ARREST 

she could not understand why their friends did 
not write. 

At times she was filled with anxiety. Every 
day Henry went off right after school and did not 
return until evening when he would bring a hun¬ 
dred or three hundred crowns. One evening he 
had six hundred crowns. He no longer sold 
matches but he said that he did odd jobs. He had 
a schoolmate, Max, with whom he went and Max 
knew about the best places in town for making 
money. She had begged him to stay home but 
he had shaken his head and replied that they 
needed the money. 

She could not overcome her anxiety. There 
were so many children those days that went astray 
and not a few disappeared. She wished that she 
might forbid his going but she knew that she 
could not deny him when he asked her so eagerly. 

One evening when Henry came home with eight 
hundred crowns she asked him to tell her how he 
had earned so much. Henry said that they had 
received four hundred crowns for accompanying a 
blind old officer to town. They had been paid a 
thousand crowns for selling some rings and a gold 
watch to a jeweler for a gentleman whom Max 
knew. They had received six hundred crowns 
for distributing some letters. 

225 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


When Henry had finished his mother stood in 
front of him and looked intently at him as if she 
were trying to make him reveal each hidden 
thought. 

“Do you know the gentleman for whom you sold 
the rings and the watch?” she asked. 

“No, but Max knows him.” 

“But, Henry, suppose he stole them. That 
would bring you into serious trouble.” 

“I’m sure he hasn’t stolen them, mother. He 
is a nice man. He lives in a handsome apart¬ 
ment with rugs and many pictures. We went to 
see him there.” 

Mrs. Selmer reflected for a moment and then 
said: 

“Perhaps they are his own property. There 
are many people nowadays who sell articles of 
their own. But you must not do this any more, 
Henry. He may be a thief. You are not able to 
judge about that.” 

“But we need the money, mother,” Henry said. 
“You may get sick again or I might get sick. 
If we have to pay two thousand crowns for a 
doctor and medicine this money will come in 
handy. Perhaps I can make enough to take us to 
Denmark. I am sure they haven’t forgotten us.” 

“You talk like a grown man but you are really 

226 


THE ARREST 


only a child. You must listen to me, Henry. I 
am not at peace as long as you are out on the 
street. I do not know Max and he will not come 
to see us. Why does he take you along? Can’t 
he lead the old officer and distribute the letters 
alone? Why does he share the money with you? 
I do not understand it at all.” 

“He is my friend and he wishes to help us. 
I met him just before Christmas and told him 
that you were sick. After the holidays he asked 
me if I didn’t want to go with him. I have told 
you all that before, mother.” 

“Is his father a merchant?” 

“I think so. He says they live in Maria-Hilfer- 
strasse but I have never been there. We meet at 
the Meidlinger station. His clothes are not as 
good as mine but he has never been away on a 
vacation trip.” 

There was a moment’s silence while Mrs. Sel- 
mer again gazed at Henry. She was not sure that 
he was telling her the truth and she feared that he 
might have yielded to the many temptations of 
the street. She missed her husband. She was 
quite alone, with no one to advise her. She took 
Henry’s hand and said: 

“Look at me, Henry. Can’t you sell matches 

227 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


again? That was much better than this uncer¬ 
tain work. I am more anxious than ever.” 

When Henry heard this request he lowered his 
eyes and blushed. 

“No, I can’t do that,” he stammered. “There 
are too many selling matches and you can make 
scarcely anything by it.” 

Mrs. Selmer let go his hand. 

“You really did sell matches? It doesn’t seem 
altogether consistent.” 

“Yes, mother, of course I sold matches before 
Christmas.” 

Mrs. Selmer was not convinced but she thought 
it would be wiser not to pursue the matter further 
just then. Perhaps she would meet Max in a 
few days. If she did not she would forbid Henry 
to go with him until she had spoken with him. 

That night neither Henry nor his mother got 
much sleep. They were both worried and unde¬ 
cided what to do. Henry considered the question 
of staying home but he could not reach any de¬ 
cision. His chief incentive was the hope of going 
to Denmark. But the thought that his mother 
might fall sick again impelled him to go on with 
his work. 

The next day when he started off his mother was 
sewing. He kissed her and promised to be back 

228 


THE ARREST 

not later than nine o’clock. He tried for the 
first time in several weeks to smile but without 
success. 

Henry was to meet Max at two near the rail¬ 
road station but when he arrived Max was not 
to be seen. He waited for him until three when 
he left to fetch the old blind officer. After per¬ 
forming this duty he returned to the business 
section in the hope of picking up an odd job. 
Wherever he went he met with refusals. Finally 
he decided to go to the opera house square to 
greet his friend the veteran and then to go home. 
But at the corner of the square he ran right into 
the arms of a policeman who seemed very much 
pleased with his capture. 

“You came just at the right moment,” the 
policeman said. “I have been hunting for you. I 
thought you sometimes came around here.” 

For a moment Henry could not move; then he 
tried to escape. But the policeman’s iron hand 
held him firmly. 

“Come along quietly,” he said. “We’ll get an 
auto and you can ride. We’ve caught the other 
fellow and he must have confessed so you might 
as well give in.” 

Henry felt as if he could not breathe. He tried 
to scream but sank down unconscious. When he 

229 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

regained consciousness he did not know where he 
was and for a moment could not recollect what had 
happened. He stared at the naked, gray walls, 
at the little window under the ceiling and at the 
small electric light covered with netting. All of 
a sudden he recalled everything and cried like a 
wounded animal under the hunter’s knife. He 
sprang towards the door and hammered on it with 
his fists. 

Then he heard steps in the corridor and a key 
turn in the lock. He prepared to slip out, but 
when the door was half open and he tried to pass 
through he was thrown back into the cell so that 
he fell over the cot and struck his head against 
the wall. 

“You want to run away, do you? I am glad 
you have come to. But if you don’t shut your 
damned mouth I’ll warm your ears for you so that 
they will never be cold again. Do you under¬ 
stand?” 

In the doorway stood an enormous man with a 
terrifying face. On a mane of gray hair rested a 
uniform cap and his beard reached to the middle 
of his breast. He was nicknamed Barabbas, being 
the chief guard of the great prison. 

The blow on his head had stunned Henry for a 

230 


THE ARREST 


moment. When he regained his senses and saw 
this giant he closed his eyes and stretched out his 
hands in self-defense. He dared not scream. 

“Lie down and go to sleep,” Barabbas com¬ 
manded. “There is a blanket under the cot. 
To-morrow you will appear in court and you must 
have your wits about you. Gronemann is to 
examine you and he is no joke.” 

The voice sounded milder and Henry opened his 
eyes. 

“Can’t I go?” he begged. “I haven’t done any¬ 
thing. There must be a mistake.” 

“I’ve heard that story before,” Barabbas 
laughed. “Every one that comes here is inno¬ 
cent. There was once a man here who was accused 
of murder. He wept and assured them that he 
was innocent but before they were through with 
him he confessed to that murder and to five others, 
so he was not quite innocent.” 

“Let me go,” Henry begged. “Mother is 
waiting for me. She has been sick and can’t 
stand it.” 

Henry threw himself down on the floor, em¬ 
braced the guard’s knees, and begged to be 
released. 

Barabbas looked down at the boy who lay with 
the dim light cast on his face. He grew serious. 

231 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


He closed the door carefully, sat down on the cot, 
and lifted Henry up. 

“What is your name?” he asked. 

“Henry.” 

“What have you done?” 

Henry reflected for a moment, then shook his 
head and said: 

“Nothing.” 

Barabbas turned Henry’s head so that the light 
fell over it. He wished to look in the prisoner’s 
eyes. He had been a prison guard for thirty-five 
years and he had learned to read a person’s eyes. 
During the past five years so many children had 
been put into prison that he knew something about 
them. The many children he had seen were 
vagabonds, most of them orphans. 

“Are you telling the truth?” Barabbas asked. 

“Yes.” 

“But what are accused of? Why did the police¬ 
man arrest you ?” 

Henry began to cry. 

“I don’t know. I was walking along when a 
policeman seized me. I was just going to see a 
veteran who begs near the opera house and then 
I was going home.” 

“Don’t you know the boy Max?” Barabbas 
asked, his eyes growing cold and hard. 

232 


THE ARREST 


“Yes.” 

“He was brought in this morning. He is in 
No. 63. Do you know what he has done?” 

Henry’s face showed its horror and Barabbas 
was about to push him away when Henry said: 

“I know Max well. We go to school together 
and for the last three weeks I have been going out 
with him. We worked together but I have never 
seen him do anything wrong. Perhaps we did 
something wrong yesterday. We went to a jew¬ 
eler for a gentleman and sold some rings and a 
watch. Mother told me I must not do that again 
for the gentleman may have stolen them.” 

“Well, we’ll wait until to-morrow. If you tell 
a straight story it will be all right. But keep to 
the truth, that’s the only thing worth while.” 

Barabbas started to get up but Henry threw 
himself on him. 

“You mustn’t go. I am afraid to be alone. 
Let me out. I must go home to mother.” 

“Now, now!” Barabbas grumbled. “Be quiet. 
You can’t get out and I can’t stay here all night. 
But I’ll let the light burn.” 

“Can’t you send a message to my mother?” 
Henry asked. “She is expecting me and she may 
get sick if I don’t come.” 

233 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


*‘Is it worth while to send word? She will 
learn soon enough where you are.” 

Henry was struck by the truth of Barabbas’ 
words and he began to cry. It was quiet, despair¬ 
ing weeping and Barabbas was troubled by it. 

“Keep quiet!” he said. “It is without doubt 
your own fault that you are here. If you seek bad 
company you don’t know where it will land you. 
That is the trouble with you. You don’t look 
bad, you are not a criminal, but I don’t care for 
your friend. Now lie down on the cot and cover 
yourself with the blanket and keep quiet. You 
ought to be glad to have the light.” 

After Barabbas had left, Henry lay down and 
did not utter another word. He lay and stared at 
the door which had been slammed shut. Barabbas 
went into the guard room, restless and absent- 
minded. What was the matter with the boy? 
Wasn’t the law too strict these days when every¬ 
thing was so impossible? When the War had 
taken a boy’s father and thrown the son out on 
the street was there not room for mercy if he went 
astray? 

During the thirty-five years of his service at the 
prison Barabbas had lost much of his natural sym¬ 
pathy. He had seen and heard so much brutality, 
defiance and hypocrisy, besides real repentance 

234 


THE ARREST 


and sorrow, that he had at last grown indifferent 
to it all. It was his business to look after the 
cells and not to decide between innocence and 
guilt. That was other people’s business. Occa¬ 
sionally he became interested in a prisoner but this 
happened less and less frequently. He had grown 
to be a determined man. 

The recent years, however, with their many 
juvenile arrests, had more frequently disturbed 
his equanimity and aroused a warm interest in 
some little boy or girl. Many children lived under 
conditions that almost forced them into crime and 
he could not help sympathizing with them. 
Barabbas realized that this evening he had re¬ 
ceived a prisoner whom he could not easily forget. 
He looked like a bright, good boy and he had 
honest eyes. 

But Max had a bad face and he was Henry’s 
friend. They had been together on the occasion 
of the sale of the watch and the rings, but Max, 
when he confessed about the robbery in Johan- 
nessgasse, said that he did not know the boy who 
had accompanied him. He had met him acci¬ 
dentally and they had agreed to engage in the 
robbery. But that was the usual story and nobody 
believed it. The boy must have been Henry. It 
was a pity; he was too good a boy for roguery. 

235 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVEI.S 


“Are you sick, master?” asked one of the 
guards in the course of the evening. 

Barabbas looked at him as if he would eat 
him up. 

“Are you interested in that? Do you want my 
place as head guard?” 

“I hadn’t thought of it yet,” was the answer. 

“Then mind your own business,” grumbled 
Barabbas. 

A little while afterwards he said: 

“You can go to No. 65 and see if the prisoner 
is asleep. It is a boy and he is sick, so the light 
is burning there. But be careful not to frighten 
him. He can’t stand much.” 

The guard came back with the information that 
he was asleep. Barabbas himself went to Henry’s 
door three times during the night and when his 
watch was up towards morning he remained. He 
wished to be present at the examination of Max 
and Henry that forenoon. 


XXI 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

UDGE GRONEMANN was an official of 
I recognized ability. Nobody could surpass 
him in presenting a case. He could be in¬ 
gratiating, friendly or threatening. He could 
speak as if the case in point were a matter of indif¬ 
ference to him or he could take an interest in the 
accused as if it were a matter of life and death for 
him to save him. It was whispered that at times 
he used severe methods but this was never said 
aloud, so that nobody knew about it with cer¬ 
tainty. All that was really known was that he 
could in an astonishing way sway the most hard¬ 
ened criminals. 

Judge Gronemann was assigned to Max and 
Henry’s case and when he examined Max he had 
the evidence so convincingly arranged that Max 
was forced to confess his guilt. There was only 
one point that Judge Gronemann could not prove. 
Max confessed that he had had a confederate but 
he declared that he did not know who he was. 

“I think you will tell me everything to-day,” 

237 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Judge Gronemann said when Max stood before 
him the following day. “I have found your con¬ 
federate and he has confessed.” 

Max was a typical street arab. He was four¬ 
teen years old but insufficient nourishment made 
him look several years older. His boldness and 
suspicion were far beyond the normal for a boy of 
his age. 

“I found him too. But do you know what his 
name is? For I don’t.” 

“You lie I” thundered the judge. “I know his 
name and you know it too.” 

“No!” was the curt answer. 

Barabbas stood behind Max. Although he had 
been awake all night he wished to attend the 
examination and had taken the guard’s place. 

“Let us repeat what we agreed upon yester¬ 
day,” the judge said mildly. “Miss Glob was 
attacked at eight o’clock Wednesday evening in 
the entrance to No. 34 Johannesgasse and robbed 
of her pocketbook containing thirty thousand 
crowns and a necklace. A boy held her while you 
snatched the pocketbook from her. You were 
recognized by Miss Glob as you were running 
away and in addition the pocketbook and necklace 
were found in the coal cellar of your foster- 
parents’ home.” 


238 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

“I can’t deny that.” 

“Tell us the name of your comrade and the 
case will be settled and you can both be sen¬ 
tenced. The sentence will be light if you 
will tell this.” 

Judge Gronemann had his mild expression. He 
was like a father talking to his son. But Max had 
learned all about him from a friend who had been 
arrested and he knew that his friendliness was 
only a trick. 

“But judge, I have confessed what I know. 
Let me be sentenced. It'was too bad that the 
lady knew me and I must pay for it. But I don’t 
know what the other boy was. I had never seen 
him before.” Max’s thin freckled face expressed 
at the same time cunning and defiance. He was 
the street urchin who knew where he was going. 
Without friends or relatives he had nothing to 
lose, so he had no cause to worry. 

But the judge grew furious. 

“Do you give advice here? You lie. You 
know the other boy.” 

“Let it go at that,” said Max. 

“What is his name?” Judge Gronemann wished 
to prove the connection between Max and Henry 
before Henry appeared. 

“Beg pardon, but it was you that said that I 

239 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


know him,” Max said, mockingly. “Can’t you 
tell his name?—for I can’t.” 

Barabbas had been standing like a statue behind 
Max. He touched him on his arm and pinched 
him. 

“Heed what you say, my boy. Don’t be fresh 
here; it doesn’t pay.” 

But the judge had regained his good humor and 
smiled. 

“Yes, I can tell you his name. That’s just what 
I can do. I have him and you will soon see him. 
His name is Henry Selmer.” 

Judge Gronemann looked at Max and observed 
an expression of horror in his eyes. 

“It’s not him,” Max said. “I can tell you that. 
He doesn’t do that sort of thing.” 

Barabbas moved so that he could see Max’s 
face. The judge continued his examination. 

“You know him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Were you together the day of the robbery?” 

“Yes, but only till half past seven.” 

The judge smiled mockingly. 

“Was he with you at the jeweler’s when you sold 
the watch and rings?” 

Max was startled. He considered for a mo¬ 
ment and then said: 


240 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

“No, I was alone.” 

“You lie!” The interruption came from Bar- 
abbas who was so old and respected that he was 
allowed free speech. “You lie, boy. Henry told 
me that he was with you.” 

“Perhaps he was lying,” said Max in an in¬ 
jured tone. 

“It’s not likely,” said Barabbas, smiling. “I 
didn’t know anything about the story. He told 
me all about it.” 

Judge Gronemann now continued. 

“Everything that you said is evidently not true. 
You want to protect Henry. But we’ll get to the 
bottom of the matter. Henry was really at the 
jeweler’s ?” 

“Yes,” said Max angrily. “He did not know 
that the things had been stolen but I knew it.” 

“Yesterday I caught you in three lies; to-day 
we have so far caught you in one. Your last 
statement is probably not true but we’ll leave that 
for the present. Tell me how long you have 
■known Henry and what you have been doing.” 

Max stood and stared and the hard expression 
gradually left his face. He passed his hand 
through his red hair and began to speak quietly, 
almost despondently. 

“My foster parents moved just before Christ- 

241 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

mas and I came to the same school as Henry. 
We sat together and I didn’t like him at first, 
he was so handsome and had such good clothes 
and was so good. One day the teacher, Mr. 
Miinther, said that Henry was the best boy in the 
school and that he would like the rest of us to be 
like him. Henry was absent that day but the 
next day I gave him a licking. He put up a good 
fight but I got him down and beat him. 

“When we came before Mr. Miinther, Henry 
begged that I should not be punished. He said 
that it was his fault, he had often been unfriendly 
when I wanted to talk to him and had once made 
fun of me. Soon after I learned that Henry had 
got his clothes in Denmark and that he did not 
have enough to eat, so I took him out every after¬ 
noon to make a little money. But Henry has 
never done anything bad. He isn’t that kind.” 

Max ceased speaking and looked about him in 
embarrassment. He was not used to making 
such a long speech. Judge Gronemann and Bar- 
abbas observed him keenly. Each of them was 
anxious to decide how much truth lay in his words. 

“You are fond of Henry?” the judge asked. 

“Yes,” answered Max. 

“That is why you wish to protect him in return 
for his having helped you once?” 

242 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

“There Is nothing about Henry to protect. He 
was not with me In the robbery and he didn’t 
know that the watch and rings were stolen.” 

“Tell me the name of the boy who was with 
you,” the judge said, still friendly and smiling. 

“I don’t know the boy. I met him on Johan- 
nesgasse and he asked me for a light. He spoke 
about the robbery and afterwards he got away. 
If I knew his name I would be only too glad to 
tell it to save Henry. But I don’t know anything 
about him.” 

“Take him out,” the judge said to Barabbas. 
“He is Impertinent and an accomplished liar. He 
plays his part well but we will get him yet. Bring 
in Henry. We’ll see if he is as obstinate.” 

Henry began by crying and begging to be re¬ 
leased. But after a while he controlled himself 
and was able to answer the questions that were 
addressed to him. In the first place Henry gave 
an account of his past life and his parents and the 
judge cross-examined him thoroughly. Then came 
his acquaintance with Max and the judge became 
still more thorough. 

“You were at the jeweler’s with a watch and 
some rings day before yesterday?” 

“Yes,” said Henry. “But mother said that I 
must not do that any more.” 

243 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“They were stolen,” said the judge. 

Henry did not answer. He looked at Barab- 
bas but Barabbas looked away. 

“Did you know that they were stolen?” asked 
the judge. 

“No, if I had I wouldn’t have done it,” Henry 
assured him, weeping. 

“Do you know the gentleman from whom you 
got them?’ 

“No, I had never seen him before.” 

Judge Gronemann paused for a moment and 
then said quite casually; 

“What was your share of the things that were 
stolen in Johannesgasse ? Were you to share 
equally with Max?” 

When Henry heard the question he broke into 
a loud cry and his eyes sought Barabbas. 

“We didn’t steal anything. Oh! let me out. 
I want to go home to mother.” 

“You must first tell us the truth,” said the judge. 
“Max has confessed and the pocketbook that you 
stole has been found. You might just as well 
confess. You will get off the easier.” 

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Henry sobbed. 
“Let me out. I want to go home.” 

“Haven’t you begged either?” the judge asked. 

“Yes, I have, for mother was sick!” Henry 

244 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

cried. He was quite beside himself and sought 
protection from Barabbas, whom he embraced 
tightly. Barabbas turned him towards the judge 
but let his hands rest on his shoulders. 

“When did you leave Max that evening and 
where did you part?” asked Judge Gronemann. 

“I don’t know,” cried Henry. “I don’t know 
anything about it. Oh, let me go and I’ll promise 
never to run about the streets any more. But I 
did it because mother was sick.” His whole body 
trembled and Barabbas had to support him. 

But the judge continued. 

“You don’t know where you were but when I 
tell you that it was day before yesterday can’t 
you remember anything?” 

“No, I can’t. I haven’t stolen anything,” 
sobbed Henry. 

“Beg pardon, your honor, isn’t it time to stop? 
The boy doesn’t know what he is saying.” With¬ 
out realizing it Barabbas stroked Henry’s hair. 

“Are you crazy?” exclaimed the judge, spring¬ 
ing up. “Will you tell me how to conduct the 
examination? That boy and the other one are 
in need of a whipping, then they would talk freely 
enough. You may mind your own business. You 
are a guard and nothing else.” 

“We should be human beings,” Barabbas said 

245 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


quietly and put his arms about Henry. “Your 
honor, I have always minded my own affairs and 
nobody can deny it. But we now are living under 
conditions where both your position and mine 
seem to me hard. We have many children here 
and most of them don’t belong. They are inno¬ 
cent even if they have gone wrong. It is the 
wretched War that we can thank for all this.” 

Judge Gronemann stood behind his desk pale as 
a sheet and gasped for breath. He had frequently 
noticed that Barabbas had opinions of his own but 
this was going too far. 

“Let go of the boy and give him a box on the 
ears,” he cried. 

“I can strike in case of need but I will not strike 
a boy to make him confess,” he said. 

Judge Gronemann looked as if he could jump 
over the table. But he suddenly collected himself 
and said quietly: 

“I shall take care that you are retired, Griiner. 
You are in your second childhood and need rest 
and quiet.” 

“You won’t do that,” Barabbas said, harshly. 
“If you harm me I will harm you. You haven’t 
forgotten the newsboy you beat half to death. 
That will be enough for you and there are other 
cases like it.” 


246 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

Judge Gronemann bit his lips. He had never 
liked Barabbas. 

“You may take the boy out,” he commanded. 
“But I warn you that if you ever behave this way 
again you will lose your position. You are an old 
man and childish.” 

Barabbas did not reply but led Henry back to 
his cell. When they had entered he sat on the 
cot and placed Henry before him so that the light 
fell on his face. 

“Tell me the truth, boy I Are you guilty?” he 
asked and his expression was again as hard as 
steel. 

“No, I am not,” sobbed Henry. “Can’t you 
help to get me out? What will mother and Mr. 
Miinther say? It is terrible.” 

“Didn’t you realize that Max was a bad com¬ 
rade for you?” Barabbas asked. 

“No, I didn’t,” Henry said, shaking his head 
vigorously. “He is clever at finding jobs and he 
shared with me. He didn’t have to do that. Do 
you think I have stolen?” 

Barabbas straightened himself. 

“I don’t know. But if you have I can excuse 
you. Like so many others you have suffered from 
the terrible misfortunes of our country.” 

That same evening Henry was interrupted in 

247 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


his sorrowful thoughts by the sound of a key in 
the lock. He hoped that it was Barabbas, for 
he was afraid to be left alone. But it was his 
mother, accompanied by the judge, who entered. 
Henry rushed to her and embraced her. The 
mother and son sat on the cot and for a long 
time they could only weep. The judge walked up 
and down the room impatiently. Mothers are 
all alike. After admitting to him that the chil¬ 
dren were probably guilty, as soon as they saw 
the children’s tears they were ready to swear that 
they were as innocent as angels. The judge 
stopped in front of them and cleared his throat. 

“Talk to him. Madam. That is what you came 
here for.” 

“Can’t we be alone for a few moments?” Mrs. 
Selmer asked. “We can talk better alone.” But 
this request was refused and they began to cry 
again. 

“You must begin now or go,” the judge said, 
angrily. “Do you think I can waste my time 
here? Hurry, you promised me to bring him to 
his senses.” 

It was a hard conversation for both Henry and 
his mother. He assured her of his innocence but 
she was not convinced. She begged him to tell the 

248 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

truth and he repeatedly cried that what he said was 
true. 

“But you did not sell matches,” she complained. 
“You begged if you didn’t do something still 
worse. I believed you but I was often afraid 
when you came home with money. I believed you 
and I didn’t believe you. Why did you lie, Henry? 
Now I don’t know whether I can depend upon 
you.” 

Henry had thrown his arms about his mother’s 
neck and his head lay against her shoulder. He 
remembered suddenly that he had lain so the day 
before his departure for Denmark when he had 
been overcome by the grief of parting from her. 

“Mother, I was afraid to tell you that I was 
begging. We needed the money. You must not 
be angry with me for that. It was harder than 
to sell things to Joshua the peasant. I would 
rather have sold matches, but that paid so little.” 

“Have you never been with Max when he 
stole?” Mrs. Selmer asked again, her voice 
trembling. 

“No,” Henry whispered, sighing deeply. 

“Look at me, Henry. Are you telling me the 
truth?” 

“Yes, I am, mother. You must believe me 
even if nobody else does.” 

249 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“If I only could,” Mrs. Selmer exclaimed. “But 
I have heard so much about Max and I do not 
understand how you could have chosen him for a 
comrade. You must tell me the truth, Henry. 
Judge Gronemann has promised to help us if you 
will tell everything. You may be allowed to go 
home with me.” 

“You mustn’t say that to him.” It was Bar- 
abbas that spoke. He stood at the entrance, 
looking at the judge with a threatening expres¬ 
sion. 

“What are you doing here?” Judge Gronemann 
asked, his voice vibrating with suppressed anger. 

“My watch begins at five o’clock,” Barabbas 
answered. 

“But you did not need to force your way in 
here,” the judge cried, looking as if he were ready 
to spring on Barabbas. 

“I always look in the cells when I go on duty. 
Is there anything wrong about that?” Barabbas 
said. “It is required by the rules.” 

“Shut your mouth!” thundered the judge. 

“All right. But remember. Madam, it is equally 
bad to tempt with freedom and to threaten with 
punishment. That is my experience.” 

“Keep quiet!” the judge cried, springing with 
raised fist towards Barabbas. 


250 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

“I will keep quiet,” Barabbas replied, “for the 
present.” 

Mrs. Selmer found it hard to part from Henry 
and Barabbas was finally forced to lead her out 
gently. 

“I will be good to him,” Barabbas whispered 
to her. “He will not be hurt.” 

“Do you believe that he is guilty?” Mrs. Selmer 
asked, looking up at the giant in terror. 

“I don’t know,” Barabbas answered. “But I 
promise to look after him in any case.” 


XXII 


THE VERDICT 


T he case against Max and Henry lasted 
two months before the verdict was 
reached. They were sentenced to re¬ 
main in a reform school until they had reached 
the age of eighteen. The day the sentence was 
announced Barabbas was in the court room and as 
soon as it had been pronounced he arose, pale and 
with blazing eyes. 

“Henry is innocent!’’ he cried. “This is judi¬ 
cial murder.” 

The presiding judge called him to order but he 
cried still louder: 

“He is innocent! I have spoken with both of 
them and know that he is innocent.” 

The judge looked around at the few spectators 
and read indifference in their eyes. 

“When a prison guard is wiser than the court,” 
he said, sarcastically, “we must listen to him. But 
make it brief. Produce your evidence.” 

Barabbas passed his hand nervously through 
his hair and beard and he looked uncertain. 


252 


THE VERDICT 


“The evidence I” repeated the judge, coldly. 

“I have no evidence,” stammered Barabbas, 
“but I know it.” 

The judge laughed mockingly and the spec¬ 
tators joined in. But Henry lay on the prisoners’ 
bench and wept. Max looked as if he could spring 
on the judge. 

“Miss Glob recognized both the boys and 
Henry has confessed besides,” said the judge, look¬ 
ing about the court room in a superior manner. 

“He has taken the confession back,” said Bar¬ 
abbas. “Judge Gronemann beat him until he con¬ 
fessed. I was away that day. I have tried to tell 
this during the trial but could not.” 

“Unfortunately the police magistrate is not 
present. He would know how to defend himself. 
But I command you to leave the court room and 
you will be held responsible for your accusation.” 

Barabbas lifted his hand threateningly and said: 

“I will go. But if it costs me my position I will 
get Judge Gronemann. That will not be hard.” 

That same evening Barabbas visited Max in 
his cell. He wished to have another talk with 
the boy. 

“Will you still declare that Henry was not with 
you?” he asked. 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Yes, he was not with me. I have said that all 
the time.” 

“Now listen carefully to what I say to you. 
You and Henry will certainly go to the same re¬ 
form school. I will help to get you out. You 
must return to Vienna and find the boy who was 
with you. I will find a place for Henry, where 
he can stay until everything is settled. He must 
not remain at the reform school longer than 
necessary. I will let you hear from me as soon 
as possible.” 

“If only I might get out,” said Max. “I will 
find him. I will look for him until I find him. It 
was stupid not to ask his name but it all went so 
quickly.” 

“Don’t you think it is terrible that a boy whom 
you like goes to prison on your account?” asked 
Barabbas. 

At this question Max for the first time in the 
whole affair lost his self-control. He threw him¬ 
self weeping on to the cot and cried: 

“I will get him out. Help to get me out and 
I will find the other boy.” 

Barabbas hurried out and went to cell No. 65. 
He would have liked to release Henry immedi¬ 
ately but he dared not. He would have to wait. 
When he entered the cell Henry lay on the cot. 

254 


THE VERDICT 

Nothing that Barabbas said made any impression 
on him. The hardest thing to bear was his 
mother’s lack of faith in him and it had helped a 
little when she came and told him that now she 
believed in his innocence, and that she would not 
doubt him any more. 

“Does mother know that I am going away?” 
Henry asked, after a while. His voice was as 
lifeless as his eyes and he did not move. 

“You know that your mother is ill,” said 
Barabbas quietly. “But I will go out and comfort 
her as well as I can. Yesterday I spoke to Major 
Brunow. He has just got back from Denmark 
where he was sick for three months.” 

Henry sat up and a little color came into his 
cheeks and his eyes brightened. 

“He helped me to go to Denmark. He knew 
father. Can’t he help me? Can’t I go to Den¬ 
mark again? It was so fine there and it is so 
terrible here.” 

A warm stream of joy passed through the old 
guard. He had noticed many times before that 
the memories of Denmark could make Henry for¬ 
get everything else but recently even this remedy 
had had no effect. There seemed to be no hope 
then. 

“Perhaps he can do something for you,” said 

255 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Barabbas, stroking Henry’s hair. “Your mother 
asked me to speak to him. He asked me to tell 
you that he had not forgotten you.” 

“He was so kind,” said Henry. “He was in 
Denmark and visited my foster father. But I 
have told you that before.” 

While Henry was in the midst of his remi¬ 
niscences about Denmark the door suddenly 
opened and Judge Gronemann stepped into the 
cell. Barabbas sprang up and turned towards him 
and Henry hid his face in his hands. 

“I have come to tell you that you may give up 
your duties for the present,” Judge Gronemann 
said. “You will never come back; you will be 
discharged.” 

“We’ll see. Either you or I will go,” Barabbas 
exclaimed. “You are higher up but maybe I have 
cleaner hands.” 

“Why do you take such an interest in this pris¬ 
oner?” the judge asked. “You are an old man. 
Be sensible and mind your own affairs. Just keep 
quiet and I will settle things and you will be 
allowed to remain.” 

“No, your honor,” Barabbas said, regaining his 
composure. “Perhaps you think he is guilty and 
do not feel that you have been too severe with him. 
I am convinced that he is innocent and if he is 

256 


THE VERDICT 

you have been his executioner. The moment I 
saw Henry I knew that I would be glad to find him 
innocent, and as soon as I knew that he was inno¬ 
cent I had to help him at any cost. You have 
always been a hard man. Now I hope that you 
will soon go. Children cannot stand such treat¬ 
ment, especially when they are innocent.” 

These last words made the judge angrier than 
ever and he said sarcastically: 

“It’s a pity you don’t hold a higher position 
here. You seem to be a wise and warm-hearted 
man.” 

“No, far from it,” said Barabbas, “but most 
people must recognize the misfortune of having 
our prisons and reform schools filled with chil¬ 
dren. It’s all due to the War. Many of the 
children are innocent even if they have broken the 
law and they cannot be saved. But those who 
have not broken the law can be saved. You will 
come to see that.” 

“Now I command you to go,” cried the judge, 
beside himself with rage. “If you don’t go imme¬ 
diately I shall put you under arrest. You will 
hear further from me and I shall take care that 
you are discharged. I don’t permit a prison guard 
to give me orders.” 


257 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


Barabbas laid his hands on Henry’s shoulders 
and said: 

“Good-by, Henry, and God be with you, my 
boy. You don’t think that He is with you now 
but there is so much that we don’t understand. 
Just wait. Everything will turn out well.” 

When Barabbas passed the judge the latter 
stood with his arms crossed and with a mocking 
smile he asked: 

“Do you think that God can reach within the 
walls of a reform school?” 

“Yes, within your walls, too,” said Barabbas. 

“Are you sure of that?” 

“Yes, now I am quite sure. Nobody mocks 
God unpunished.” 


XXIII 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 

T he reform school was an old paper fac¬ 
tory that had been hastily remodeled to 
make room for some of the many boys 
from the engulfing swamp of Vienna. A large 
garden surrounded the school and a part of the 
building had been turned into shops for carpenters, 
cabinetmakers and smiths. There were also 
schoolrooms and a gymnasium. Everything was 
wisely planned to make the children take pleasure 
in their work. 

But there was one fatal defect. The superin¬ 
tendent was a discharged sergeant who had never 
had much to do with children and with one excep¬ 
tion his assistants were no better fitted for their 
task. Many teachers had fallen in the War and 
it was impossible to get proper persons for the 
new reform schools. 

Henry and seven other boys, including Max, 
arrived at the reform school in the latter part of 

259 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


March and they were immediately summoned to 
the superintendent’s office. 

“Ah, Murmann, bring the papers!” cried the 
superintendent, as soon as they had entered. 
“Murmann, Murmann! Bring the papers.” 

But no Murmann appeared and the superin¬ 
tendent, who was a tall, muscular man about fifty 
years old, turned round and round, just like a dog 
chasing its own tail. The boys looked at him at 
first in amazement but at last they could not re¬ 
strain a smile in which they were joined by the two 
attendants. 

“Murmann, Murmann!” he called again, 
“bring the papers! I must get the boys’ names.” 

“Beg pardon, but we know those ourselves,” 
Max said. His good humor had been restrained 
so long that he felt like exercising it. 

The superintendent stood for a moment and 
stared at Max. 

“You know that yourselves? Take that!” 
Before Max knew it he received a hard box on 
the ears. But the superintendent availed himself 
of the suggestion and began to examine them about 
their names, ages and the reasons for their com¬ 
ing. Most of them had stolen, one had been a 
truant for a year and a half. Last of all he came 
to Henry. 


260 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 

“Your name 

“Henry Selmer.” 

“How old?” 

“Thirteen years.” 

“And what have you done?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Oh, you have done nothing. Take that!” 
The box on his ears made him totter back. 

“He’s telling the truth!” exclaimed Max, bit¬ 
terly. All his good humor was gone and his eyes 
blazed. “He hasn’t done anything. It was me. 
I stole.” 

The superintendent rushed over to Max. 

“If you don’t shut up you will be put in the 
dungeon,” he cried. “Don’t speak unless you are 
spoken to.” 

Then he turned to Henry. 

“Then you were with him when he stole?” 

“No, I was not with him,” Henry said, covering 
his face with his hand. He looked for another 
blow. 

“Are you crazy, boy?” thundered the superin¬ 
tendent. “Do you dare come here and tell me 
that you haven’t done anything? Take care that 
you don’t get your back warmed. We’ll drive 
your obstinacy out of you.” 

The superintendent then made a speech to the 

261 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

eight boys about their wickedness which he would 
drive out of them and about the many fine methods 
he had for doing this. Before he had finished 
he swelled with pride over his remarkable ability 
and eloquence. He was quite convinced that he 
was the right man in the right place. 

When Henry lay in bed that evening he felt that 
he was wholly lost. He was far away from home 
and from all the people he knew. He wished he 
were back in his cell in Vienna where his mother 
lived. His mother was still sick in bed and he 
had not even been able to say good-by to her. But 
she had written him a letter in which she said that 
she believed in him and was not angry with him 
for having begged. She would get well and she 
would wait for him even if she had to wait until 
he was eighteen. 

But Henry missed something in the letter. His 
mother had not written anything about his having 
lied to her and that she forgave him for that. 
And Henry missed it because he himself had felt 
all the time that it was from that time that every¬ 
thing had gone wrong for him. He was happy to 
get the letter and he read it many times but every 
time he missed this most important part. 

He had heard also from his teacher, Mr. 
Miinther, who said that he had tried three times 

262 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 

to see him and then he wrote something that 
Henry had read over and over again until he knew 
it by heart. 

“Of all the boys I have ever had you were the 
one that I loved the most. I was always glad to 
see you after vacations and you were often in my 
thoughts while you were in Denmark. You were 
one of the few who helped me to preserve my joy 
in my work and therefore I cannot give up believ¬ 
ing you. It cannot be true that you are guilty.” 

All night Henry lay awake and his thoughts 
wandered from his mother to Mr. Miinther and 
then to Barabbas and back to his mother. Could 
they help him? He was sentenced to stay here 
until he was eighteen. What would they say in 
Denmark if they knew that he was in a reform 
school, condemned for assault and robbery? It 
was only six months since he had left Denmark but 
much had happened in that time. 

After a while Henry grew accustomed to his 
teachers, his comrades and his work. He soon 
made friends with the teachers. He attended to 
his duties faithfully and never spoke unless he was 
spoken to. But it was harder with his companions. 
They regarded his silence as a sign of superiority 
and Max’s assurances that he was innocent did not 
help matters. At first they teased him in every 

263 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


way possible but this soon lost its novelty and they 
left' him alone. 

The day started at six; when they got up, 
dressed, made their beds and swept the floor. At 
half past six they ate breakfast, a piece of bread 
and a cup of tea, after which one of the teachers 
held a religious service. At seven lessons started 
and lasted until noon. From one until six they 
worked in the fields and in the shops and at eight 
they all went to bed. 

Henry enjoyed the school hours most of all. 
He was put in the highest class and had no diffi¬ 
culty with his lessons. He found the practical 
work more difficult. He was assigned to the cab¬ 
inetmakers’ shop. But he was clumsy handling a 
hammer and he could not manage the plane. 

“You must be more careful,” the teacher often 
said. And Henry was careful but there was not 
much improvement. He found that Henry was 
better fitted for gardening but he did not wish to 
give him up. There was something about the 
boy that was lacking in the others. 

Henry, too, noticed that Mr. Winther liked him 
and it was his first joy at the school. One eve¬ 
ning after supper Mr. Winther called Henry to 
his room, asked him to sit down in a wicker chair 
and then, without saying anything, walked up and 

264 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 

down the floor. Henry could not understand 
what was the matter. He ran over in his mind 
all that he had done that day but he could not 
think of anything wrong. And yet there must be 
something the matter, he could see it in Mr. Win- 
ther’s face. 

After sitting for a moment as if he were seek¬ 
ing the right words, Mr. Winther began to speak 
earnestly and without hesitation. His eyes rested 
on Henry with a mild expression and at times they 
seemed moist. 

“There was once a boy about your age. His 
mother was dead and his father was bad and hated 
him. He wanted to emigrate to America but did 
not want to take the boy with him. He wanted to 
marry again and the boy was in the way. The 
boy wasn’t wanted anywhere, he was hardly 
endured. 

“But he had one friend and only one, his old 
teacher. He loved and understood him. He was 
a plain old man without much learning, but he 
understood how to find those who were in trouble 
and in need of love and help. He was a father 
to all whose existence was poor and gray. 

“Then it happened once that the boy stole. He 
was going to a church festival but he had only a 
patched, faded coat. He stole a coat that was 

265 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


hanging outside of a shop. He had looked at it 
for many days and one evening he made the at¬ 
tempt. But he was detected and handed over to 
the police. 

“His father gave witness against him that he 
had always been a bad, unreliable boy and others 
gave the same testimony. But his old teacher 
appeared in court and spoke so warmly in his 
favor that the judges received a different impres¬ 
sion about him and sentenced him to the reform 
school. But the old teacher offered to take him 
into his own home and assured them that he would 
make a good boy out of him. The matter was ar¬ 
ranged, the boy grew up in the school, and there 
he learned to know life from its light and good 
side. He learned to protect his honor and to 
realize how much love can do.” 

Mr. Winther was silent and sat for a while 
staring in front of him. Then he stood up and 
looked out into the hall. On his return he 
resumed his former place and continued: 

“I have told you this little story because during 
the past days I have been reminded of my old 
teacher for he was my teacher and I was the boy 
I have been telling you about. It is the memory 
of him that urges me to help you. And now 
you must listen carefully for this concerns you. 

266 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 

Yesterday I was asked to meet a gentleman at the 
hotel. I could not learn his name and it was 
some time before he came to his real business 
which was to help get you out of here. He 
offered me money for my help but that made me 
angry and I was about to leave when he said that 
he had been your teacher in Vienna.” 

“Was it really Mr. Munther?” exclaimed 
Henry, his eyes shining brightly. 

But Mr. Winther told him not to speak so 
loud. 

“Yes, it was Mr. Munther. I learned his name 
later. He told me a great deal about you, Henry, 
about your home and your mother. He told me 
so much that I could no longer refuse to help you, 
that is to say, not exactly help you, but close my 
eyes and see that you get a start that will assure 
you your liberty. I don’t know how it will be 
arranged and I don’t want to know. But you will 
learn about it.” 

Mr. Winther sat in silence for a while, then he 
smiled and said: 

“There are children who find it difficult to gain 
friends. That was the way with me. But I found 
one who helped me when I most needed help. 
There are other children who win friends every¬ 
where and you are one of those. There are at 

267 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


least three who are working for you and who are 
willing to run serious risks for you. But I am 
afraid and I must protect myself. In the next 
three days I shall be severe with you. I shall 
begin to-morrow and I’ll let my anger and dis¬ 
satisfaction grow from day to day. As you know 
that it doesn’t mean anything and that it is done 
in order to free me from suspicion, you can stand 
it. In a week you ought to be free.” 

When Mr. Winther had ceased speaking the 
joy had left Henry’s eyes and he sat and stared 
disconsolately. 

“Where shall I go when I come out?” he asked. 
“I can’t go home for they would catch me there. 
But if I can’t go home I might just as well stay 
here.” 

At first Mr. Winther looked disconcertedly at 
Henry, but gradually his voice grew stern. 

“You must be brave, my boy. If you are inno¬ 
cent it will be proved in time. If you are guilty 
you must accept this help and let the memory of 
those who helped you protect you in the future. I 
don’t know where you are going and I don’t want 
to know, but when I trust the men who will help 
you, you must trust them too.” 

The conversation ended here and Henry went 
into his little room. He was dissatisfied with him- 

268 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 

self but he could not persuade himself to be happy 
at the prospect of being free. He was afraid of 
escaping, he was afraid of being betrayed. Per¬ 
haps Mr. Winther would only lead him into a trap. 

In the following days Mr. Winther was con¬ 
stantly scolding Henry and chasing him from one 
job to another. He frequently shook him and 
threatened him with punishment. At first Henry 
recollected their conversation but before long he 
was filled with doubt. Nobody would come to 
help him and Mr. Winther was only amusing 
himself by tormenting him. 

Henry was about ready to give way to despair 
when Max ran away. Nobody knew when or how 
he had got away but his bed was untouched in the 
morning, the door was locked, and there were no 
footprints under the window. This gave Henry 
renewed hope, for Max had promised to find the 
other boy. 

The rotund little Mr. Murmann tore his thin 
hair and asserted in a plaintive voice that he was 
innocent. It was certainly one of the boys from 
the hall over which he held watch but the boy was 
there at ten o’clock and he was sleeping quietly. 

“Were you sleeping too?” the superintendent 
yelled, with the full force of his powerful lungs, 
and rushed into the dining room where all the 

269 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

boys sat at breakfast. “But I shall teach you, 
Mr. MurmannI and I shall teach the boys not 
to run away! Whoever runs away will get a flog¬ 
ging and the teacher who has charge of the boy 
I shall take care of. He will be recommended for 
discharge and he will be discharged, for my words 
carry weight.” 

The superintendent stood in front of Mr. Mur- 
mann with clenched hands and the boys and the 
other teachers expected that he would strike him. 
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. 

“Come ini” cried the superintendent, turning 
round. 

A major of infantry and two privates entered. 
The privates stood at either side of the door and 
the major advanced into the room. 

“Are you the superintendent?” the officer asked, 
curtly. 

“Yes,” answered the superintendent, his voice 
trembling slightly as he looked at the soldiers at 
the door. 

“I must ask you to accompany me,” said the 
major. “At a recent court martial some facts 
about your conduct in the campaign in Galicia 
were discovered. Here is an order for your arrest. 
I hope you will come without resistance.” 

The superintendent stared at the paper and his 

270 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 

brow was covered with great drops. He gasped 
for breath as if he had received a heavy blow. 

“I don’t understand it,” he stammered. “But 
I must follow. It is terrible. Everything was 
going so well.” 

Mr. Murmann, who felt considerably relieved, 
stole out, but when Mr. Winther was about to 
follow him he was stopped. 

“Come here I” said the major, nodding to him. 
He obeyed and was told to have the boys led 
back to their rooms. “Take care that none of 
them run away. I have orders to appoint one of 
the teachers as acting superintendent,” said the 
major. 

Two minutes after Henry had been locked into 
his room he was brought out again and put into an 
automobile which immediately started off. 

“Where am I going?” asked Henry, looking 
confusedly at a tall, powerful man who had helped 
him into a seat. “Let me out! I don’t want to 
go away.” He struggled to free himself but the 
unknown man held him firmly. “Be quiet, 
Henry!” the latter whispered. “You are free 
now and I shall bring you to a safe place.” 

When Henry heard the voice he felt relieved for 
he recognized it. It was Barabbas who sat beside 

271 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

him but he had shaved off his beard and his hair 
was cut so that he was quite changed. 

“Is it you?” whispered Henry. “I was so 
scared. I didn’t know you.” 

“I promised you that I would come,” said 
Barabbas, putting his arm about Henry. “It took 
a long time, but Mr. Miinther and Major 
Brunow wished to wait. They made the plan and 
they have promised that nothing will go wrong. 
It is lucky that you have those two friends for I 
couldn’t have done anything without them.” 

“But the officer who was here is not Major 
Brunow, is he? What has the superintendent 
done?” asked Henry. “Will he go to prison?” 

“No,” Barabbas laughed. “He probably hasn’t 
done anything wrong. They were not real, the 
soldiers and the officer. They were Major 
Brunow’s idea. They will hold the superintendent 
in a little house near Vienna for a day. When 
he gets back you will be in safety and he will have 
only his own stupidity to thank for it.” 

“Where are we going?” asked Henry. It was 
difficult for him to collect his thoughts, but he 
realized that he was free. 

The old prison guard told him that they were 
going to a suburb of Graz where he had a half 
brother who had promised to look after Henry for 

272 


THE REFORM SCHOOL 


the present. From there they planned to get him 
to Denmark or Holland but that was not easy to 
arrange for they would need forged passports, 
a risky business. 

“Our best hope is to find the boy who was with 
Max in the robbery,” Barabbas concluded. “Then 
everything will be all right.” 


XXIV 


NEWS FROM DENMARK 

B ARABBAS sat in a poor little room in a 
dark courtyard by Henry’s bed. Spring 
had come, the air was mild and the songs 
of birds resounded. But Barabbas felt no joy in 
the spring. He was tired and discouraged and 
everything seemed to him to go wrong. Had he 
not rejoiced at freeing Henry and at the thought 
that everything would be all right? And now 
the boy lay in bed for the second week. He had 
no definite sickness but the hard usage of the past 
six months had broken him down. 

He had not noticed it during the drive but when 
they had reached their goal and the suspense was 
over Henry had collapsed and a frightened, de¬ 
spairing expression had come into his eyes. At 
night he lay in bed tossing about without being 
able to fall asleep. Every once in a while he com¬ 
plained as if he were in great trouble and when 
Barabbas spoke to him he had begged him not to 
go back to Vienna. 


274 


NEWS FROM DENMARK 

“You must stay. I am afraid to be here 
alone.” 

Barabbas remained although it interfered with 
his plans. Henry did not improve but grew worse. 
He could neither eat nor sleep and at last he had 
to stay in bed although the doctor said that he 
was not ill. 

Barabbas sat and shook his head. It could not 
continue this way much longer. But what was 
to be done? A visit from Henry’s mother might 
help but that was dangerous. She was undoubt¬ 
edly watched by the police and would be followed 
to Henry’s hiding place. Barabbas did not know 
what to do. He bent over Henry who had been 
lying with his eyes closed. 

“You must get up to-morrow,” he said, smiling. 
“We will go for a walk; that will do you good.” 

“They will catch me,” Henry whispered. “I am 
afraid to go. Let me stay in bed. I am so tired; 
I can’t go.” 

“We’ll get up and go as soon as it is light. 
Then we will not meet anybody. You must get up, 
Henry! You can’t stay in bed any longer.” 

Henry did not answer but closed his eyes and 
lay quietly as if he were about to fall asleep. But 
Barabbas was not willing to let him go. 

“You must be sensible, Henry,” he said. “You 

275 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


asked me to stay here and I did, although I ought 
to be in Vienna. I should have been in court 
to-day and now they will believe that I have run 
away. Now you must obey me. I am old and 
experienced and you must remember that I have 
already risked a good deal for you.” 

Henry saw that the old guard was right and he 
promised to get up next morning. He did not 
sleep much that night and towards dawn he came 
to think of Stephen. He had known him so short 
a time but he would never forget him. He was 
good and patient and grateful. That brought 
Henry to realize that he had not been at all grate¬ 
ful. He had secured his freedom again and had 
many kind friends to help him. He had good rea¬ 
son to be happy but yet he did not feel happy, 
only tired and frightened; everything was so hard 
that it did not seem as if it could ever be any 
better. 

He was diverted from his thoughts by Barab- 
bas’ coming in with the tea. 

“Now you must hurry,” he said. “The sun will 
soon be up and we are going on a mountain climb. 
The view up there is best at sunrise.” 

“Can’t I stay home?” Henry asked. “I can’t 
climb the mountain.” 

“You will go up there if I have to carry you,” 

276 


NEWS FROM DENMARK 


Barabbas exclaimed. “This coddling has got to 
stop. If you don’t get up yourself I will pull you 
out of bed and if you don’t do as I say I will whip 
you.” 

Henry looked in terror at Barabbas. Was he 
in earnest? He looked irritated and angry. He 
got up and they started off. The choir of birds 
was singing but they met nobody on the streets of 
the village. 

When they had reached the top of the mountain 
Barabbas took Henry’s hand and said: 

“Now I will help you and you must not be 
afraid. I talked a little severely to you this morn¬ 
ing because I wanted to get you up. But it was 
for your sake and I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“I am glad that we came out,” said Henry. “It 
is beautiful here and the air is so fresh. We must 
take care that nobody sees us.” 

“There isn’t much danger even if some one 
should see us,” Barabbas assured him. “There 
are not many policemen out here.” 

Now they ascended a narrow path and were 
soon in the forest. There were beech trees, with 
their straight, bright trunks and their wide-spread 
crowns, the slender acacias, stiff firs and scattered 
among them were lilac bushes. All the trees were 

277 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


in their spring dress and breathed a perfume that 
was almost stupefying. 

Henry pressed Barabbas’ hand. He was almost 
overpowered by the luxuriant life and beauty of 
nature but he felt a wonderful calm and joy. 

“It is as beautiful here as in Denmark,” he said. 
“I think it is almost more beautiful.” 

It was a long way to the ruin and the path grew 
steeper and steeper. Henry was tired but he kept 
on. At last he had to give in. He had lost so 
much strength during the past weeks. 

“Can’t we rest?” he asked, “just for a few min¬ 
utes. I can’t breathe.” 

“We are soon up there and before we look about 
the castle I shall tell you something that will make 
you happy.” 

“Tell me now,” Henry begged. 

“No, I have kept it all the way,” said Barabbas, 
“and you must wait. I learned about it yesterday 
and decided not to tell about it until we had 
reached the ruin.” 

As a result of this news Henry was soon rested 
and he sprang up. 

“Let us hurry 1” he cried. Barabbas smiled to 
himself. 

They reached the ruined castle from the south 
side and went into the courtyard. They lay down 

278 


NEWS FROM DENMARK 

under some lilac bushes and made themselves 
comfortable. 

“Tell me now!” Henry begged. “Now we are 
here.” 

“While I was making tea this morning I made 
so much noise that I woke up my brother and his 
bad conscience too. He came and gave me a 
letter which he had carried in his pocket for two 
days. All my letters are addressed to him, you 
know. The letter was from Major Brunow and 
he wrote that he had written to your foster parents 
in Denmark and that they were very much sur¬ 
prised that you had not heard from them in so 
long a time. They had sent letters and packages 
but you always wrote that you had not heard from 
them. They wrote that they had not heard from 
you since Christmas. Major Brunow wrote to 
Denmark to learn if you might go there and he 
told everything. The answer was that you would 
be welcome to stay there always. Now we must 
find the boy who was with Max in the robbery. 
Then you will be free and can go safely.” 

“But what became of the letters and packages ?” 
Henry asked. “Why haven’t we got them?” 

“Because they were stolen. Two men at the 
post office have been arrested but it is believed 
that there are others. The thieves are very clever. 

279 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


As soon as they have stolen one package they take 
everything from Denmark so as not to be dis¬ 
covered.” 

Henry sat for a moment and bit a blade of 
grass. Then he exclaimed: 

“So they haven’t forgotten us! If we could 
only go to Denmark.” His face had grown lively, 
his eyes were bright and there was a little smile 
on his lips. “When can we get off?” he asked. 
“In a week or two ? Oh, how fine it will be 1” 

“Wait a minute,” laughed Barabbas. “You 
must first get your freedom. Then you will 
enjoy the trip all the more.” 

“I had forgotten that,” Henry said, somewhat 
subdued. “Will that take long?” 

“I don’t know,” Barabbas said. “Major 
Brunow wrote that there was no news. But it 
can come soon. Don’t you think you could be 
alone here for a few days? I would like to go 
to Vienna and perhaps I could help the case along. 
I should like to talk with Max.” 

“Yes, you may go,” Henry said, after a little 
reflection. “But I dare not go out while you are 
gone.” 

Barabbas consented to this and they sat for a 
while talking about the future. Then Barabbas 
arose and they started to roam through the ruins. 

280 


NEWS FROM DENMARK 


Henry asked many questions which Barabbas was 
able to answer for he had spent his childhood and 
youth in the neighborhood and had often played 
about the ruins. After they had seen the tower 
and the remnants of the chapel Barabbas led 
Henry through underbrush to the brow of the 
mountain from which there was an extensive view. 

Far below lay the green plains through which 
the river Mur wound. To the west and south¬ 
west the view was shut off by the mountains. But 
the view towards Graz was free and the beautiful 
mountain town appeared at its best from the 
height. A haze hung over the town but the castle 
with the remains of the old fortress was plainly 
visible—like a glorious crown on a beautiful head. 

Barabbas rejoiced at seeing his childhood home 
again and it was noon before Henry induced him 
to return to the courtyard where they intended to 
stay until dusk. They found a cozy place in a 
corner of the wall behind a thicket where they ate 
their dinner, some dry bread which Barabbas had 
brought in his pocket. Henry had a nap that 
lasted several hours. Afterwards Barabbas told 
him all that he knew about the castle including 
the legend of the knight’s young daughter Anna 
von Costing who leaped from a precipice because 
she could not marry the man she loved. 

281 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

When darkness began to wrap itself about the 
mountain they started for home, which they did 
not reach until late at night. But Henry slept 
soundly all night. He was tired out and he was 
quieter in his mind. 


XXV 


FREEDOM 


B ARABBAS had been to Vienna twice, but 
each time on his return he had to tell 
Henry there was no news. They could 
not find the boy and Max had disappeared. Then 
one day a telegram came to Barabbas: 

Come immediately. Boy found. Let Henry stay. 

Barabbas took the first train and for two days 
Henry heard nothing from him. He was almost 
in despair when Barabbas appeared and Henry 
could see from his expression that everything had 
been arranged. 

“Tell me! tell me!” cried Henry. 

“Let me come in first,” the giant laughed. 
“Hurry! Am I free? Does everybody know 
that I am not a thief?” 

Barabbas began to tell about it all. 

“Look you, Henry, Judge Gronemann deserves 
a good share of your thanks. He called on your 
mother the other day and was very unhappy. He 
had just examined a boy who confessed that he 

283 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


had been in the robbery on Johanesgasse. He had 
planned it and he gave a description that showed 
that he was telling the truth. 

“Your mother then sent word to Mr. Miinther 
and Major Brunow and they agreed to telegraph 
me. Now everything has been arranged. We 
finally found Max and he recognized the boy. 
You are cleared and free. The case against rhe 
has been dismissed. I keep my position and I have 
made peace with Judge Gronemann. It is a long 
time since I have seen a man as unhappy as he 
was. I think he will be more careful in the future 
and that will be a good thing all around. Nobody 
knows how you escaped from the reform school. 
That is a secret that the superintendent is won¬ 
dering about.” 

When Barabbas had ceased speaking Henry 
asked: 

“Are mother and I going to Denmark?” 

“Yes, that’s why you are to stay here,” said 
Barabbas. “To-morrow your mother is coming 
and we will get your passports here. Major 
Brunow thought it would be easier than in Vienna. 
He thinks he can arrange to have you stay in Den¬ 
mark as long as you wish.” 

“I can hardly believe that it is true,” said Henry. 
His voice was thick and the tears poured down 

284 


FREEDOM 

his cheeks. Then he threw his arms about Barab- 
bas’ neck. 

One day early in June a little company sat on 
the terrace of the Hotel Daniel in Graz. There 
were Henry and his mother, Barabbas, Major 
Brunow, Mr. Miinther and Barabbas’ half- 
brother and the latter’s wife. Major Brunow was 
host. They had just finished a very simple dinner 
of ham and black bread and were enjoying a cup 
of coffee. They were in good humor, especially 
Henry and his mother, for they had just received 
the passports and could leave whenever they 
wished. 

“Fortunate pair!” said Mr. Miinther, turning 
towards Henry and his mother. “It has always 
been my desire to travel and see other countries, 
but I have never succeeded in doing it. You have, 
Henry, and you should be happy. But do not 
forget us.” 

Henry looked at his teacher and his eyes filled 
with tears. There was joy at the prospect of the 
journey but there was also grief. If he could only 
take all those whom he loved with him. 

Barabbas had for a long time been restless. 
Now he cleared his throat and feverishly dried his 
face with his handkerchief. 

285 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

“I want to—I wish to say something,” he stam¬ 
mered. “I am no speaker but if I may sit down 
I can say what I want to say. What I want to 
say I will say to you, Henry. We have had war 
here and war is the worst thing there is. That’s 
my opinion but no matter about that. 

“The War has killed thousands of our children 
and has forced thousands into the mire without 
their fault. You were about to be caught on the 
street, Henry, but now you are saved. You are 
one of the lucky ones who find it easy to make 
friends. You have friends in Denmark and they 
will help you. You have friends here and we 
helped you in your need. 

“You have got friends, my boy, but there fol¬ 
lows a great responsibility. You must act so that 
they will be proud of you and will never have 
cause to be ashamed of you. 

“I wish that I might help many others for there 
are so many here who need help. I have been 
talking nonsense but I say: we demand that you 
become a real man.” 

Barabbas dried his brow and seized Henry’s 
hand and pressed it so hard that Henry winced. 

“I shall come back and I shall become a clever 
man,” Henry whispered to Barabbas and Barab¬ 
bas nodded. 


286 


FREEDOM 


“I shall wait for you. I am of a tough old 
stock and I shall wait for you.” 

It was almost train time and the company broke 
up. Major Brunow, Mr. Munther and Barabbas 
were going back to Vienna and the others accom¬ 
panied them to the station. The parting was 
affecting, especially for Henry. 

“Greet all your friends in Denmark,” said Mr. 
Munther. 

“From me too,” said Barabbas. “Greet the old 
fisherman. Mads Dyre. I like him.” 

“I shall come this summer and visit you,” said 
Major Brunow. 

The train started and they waved their last 
farewells. 


XXVI 


BACK TO DENMARK 

T he June sun lay over the land and there 
was not a cloud in the sky. 

“It will be too warm,” complained the 
sheep, breathing heavily. 

“BahI bah! Is that anything to talk about?’’ 
cried the small lambs, springing over the green 
sward. They waved their tails and found every¬ 
thing glorious. The sand on the beach was burn¬ 
ing hot and the water was lukewarm. It was 
summer, summer in Denmark. 

Henrik Lund and his wife came through the 
gate of Kjaerholm and after them came Carl and 
Maren. They looked as if they were marching in 
a procession and they all had something to carry. 

“In three hours they will be here,’’ said Henrik 
Lund. He had a water pail in one hand and a 
new meat chopper in the other. 

“It will be fine to see them again. I hope they 
will be pleased with our arrangements,” answered 
Mrs. Lund. 

“Why shouldn’t they be pleased? They will 
. 288 


BACK TO DENMARK 


have their own little house and they can visit us 
whenever they choose. Mrs. Selmer will find a 
full cupboard when she comes and it will never 
be empty. We can attend to that easily.” 

They reached their goal, a little house about 
six hundred feet from the farmhouse. It had been 
unoccupied for many years but it had been scoured 
inside and out so that it looked very cozy. There 
were two rooms, one furnished as a sleeping room, 
the other as a living room. Most of the furniture 
was old but everything was tastefully arranged. 

Maren sat down in a big armchair, but Mrs. 
Lund busied herself with the last touches. She 
was secretly proud of the little home they had 
created and hoped that Mrs. Selmer would be 
pleased with it. 

Carl rushed in and cried: 

“Father, we have forgotten something. There 
is a chicken house but there are no chickens. They 
must have chickens. Henry loves animals and so 
does his mother. May I bring some ?” 

Mr. Lund laughed at Carl’s eagerness. 

“I’m afraid they will run back home. It is so 
near. But you may try it, Carl. Catch a rooster 
and five hens. Tie a string around their legs so 
that you will know them.” 

“The chickens are really mine,” said Mrs. Lund, 

289 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 

trying to look offended, “but you may take them, 
CarL” 

“Oh, now I am in hot water again,” sighed Mr. 
Lund. 

“It isn’t the first time,” was Maren’s sarcastic 
reply. 

“They must have a cat too,” exclaimed CarL 
“We have plenty of cats. They may have one 
of the gray ones. We will put it in the kitchen 
with a saucer of milk and it will stay there.” 

“I’m afraid to say anything,” Mr. Lund replied. 
“Ask Maren or your mother. I don’t know who 
has charge of the cats.” 

“The mistress has charge of the chickens be¬ 
cause they have two legs,” said Maren, proudly. 
“The cats have four legs and you look after 
them.” 

“Thank you for the explanation,” laughed Mr. 
Lund. “You have two legs, Maren, and therefore 
my wife has charge of you. Now I understand.” 

The meeting between Henry and his Danish 
friends was uproarious but after the first greetings 
he found it difficult to feel at home for so much 
had happened since his last visit. But it was easier 
when the lamp had been lighted and they all sat 
around the table. Henry told about his mother 
and himself, about little Stephen and Barabbas 

290 


BACK TO DENMARK 

and Mr. Miinther and Major Brunow. At first 
he found difficulty in expressing himself in Danish 
but he quickly recalled it and after a while he spoke 
almost as fluently as when he left Denmark. 

Mr. Lund told Henry about the house they had 
made ready and about all the other arrangements. 
He asked him to tell his mother and Henry trans¬ 
lated what Mr. Lund had said. Mrs. Selmer 
shook her head and with tears in her eyes assured 
them that she would earn their food. She would 
work at sewing if they would help them until she 
had learned to speak Danish. 

Mr. Lund told her to arrange things as she 
wished. But she must have everything she needed. 
For the present she and Henry were his guests. 

While they were sitting drinking coffee Mads 
Dyre came. It was late but he had been out with 
his sole nets and he wished to greet Henry. 

“Your cheeks have grown thin,” said Mads 
Dyre. 

“Yes.” 

“They haven’t treated you well.” 

“No, not good all, but some.” 

Mads was invited to join the company and they 
were all happy together. They renewed mem¬ 
ories of the first visit and now they were all happy 
memories. 

291 


HENRY AND HIS TRAVELS 


“Do you remember, Maren, when Henry tried 
to teach you to swim? That was the first evening 
he was here. But the tub was too small and you 
didn’t learn.” Mr. Lund recalled this story. He 
was fond of teasing Maren and he declared that 
she could not get along without it. 

“No, that was not Henry,” Carl declared, 
eagerly. “Maren wished to see if Henry had fleas. 
Then she got afraid of him and tumbled into the 
tub. She fell herself; he did not touch her.” 

“Talk all you choose,” said Maren, very peace¬ 
ably. “I only wanted to save Marie Lund’s pretty 
bed. I didn’t know how his head looked; he was 
a foreigner.” 

Old Mads Dyre nodded to Henry and said: 

“You must come over to see me often. It 
was such fun when you and Carl came. It puts 
life in an old fellow to have boys around.” 

“Yes, I’ll come to-morrow,” Henry assured 
him. At the same moment he thought of Barab- 
bas and gave Mads Dyre his greeting. 

When the clock struck twelve Mr. Lund arose 
and said: 

“Now we must all go to bed. We can’t sleep 
till noon. Our guests must need rest. I order 
you all to march off.” 

They accompanied Henry and his mother to 

292 


BACK TO DENMARK 


their new home. Maren had gone ahead and 
lighted lamps both in the living rooms and the 
kitchen, so that the house was fully illuminated 
when they reached it, but unfortunately the cat had 
left. 

When Mrs. Selmer had crossed the threshold 
she stopped and looked about in confusion. Then 
she hid her head in her hands. 

“What is the matter, mother? Why do you 
cry?” asked Henry trying to remove her hands. 

“I am crying for joy. Think, Henry, that we 
two will have such a beautiful home. Tell them 
that it is too pretty. Thank them and say that 
we can never repay them.” 

Henry translated his mother’s words and Mrs. 
Selmer herself expressed her thanks which they did 
not understand. Maren sniffed. Mads Dyre left, 
and Mr. Lund began to tease Maren. Maren 
declared that he teased her so as not to sniffle 
himself. But Mrs. Lund took both of Mrs. 
Selmer’s hands and pressed them warmly, and 
Mrs. Selmer understood that language—it was the 
same in Austria and Denmark. 


(i) 


THE END 


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